Balance
by seasidewriter1
Summary: Elara Skywalker finds herself suddenly plunged into a life filled with adventure, threats of the Dark Side, and the need to balance, not only the Force, but her life. Jedi are not supposed to form attachments. They are not supposed to love. Unfortunately, Elara finds herself falling into a tangle of emotion regarding a particular Jedi Master, all while the galaxy is falling to ruin
1. Amidst The Storm

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize._

 _ **Foreword: This story was previously under the name 'Another Skywalker'; the previous owner of this story (TheNewBrokenEEB) has very kindly allowed me to adopt and continue this story. Thank you, again!**_

1\. Amidst the Storm

If there was something that Tatooine had an abundance of, it was sunlight and sand. Natives to the desert planet often griped about sand getting everywhere, from filling their shoes to the light dusting of it scattered across the floors of their homes. There was no way to escape it, just as there was no way to escape the double suns that crept their way through Tatooine's skies. The onslaught of sunlight often burned skin and made the days unbearably hot, leaving the nights almost chillingly cold in the evenings. Between the two, Elara Skywalker would take the double suns over the sand any day. The pesky sediment always got in her eyes and often wormed its way into the cuts that she, on occasion, found herself troubled with. It coated her sweaty body whenever she worked outside in the junkyard her slave master, Watto, owned. It was grueling work, especially for prolonged periods of time, but Elara had no choice but to do the work given to her; such was a slave's lot.

A hissed curse passed through her lips as a piece of hot, sharp metal sliced through the skin of her palm. Elara cradled her hand to her stomach in attempts to protect it from exposure to sand. The last thing she needed was to risk infection and leave all the work to her little brother, Anakin. She ripped the thin scarf off her head and clamped the hem of it between her teeth. Yanking her head backwards and her uninjured hand downwards, Elara successfully ripped a strip of cloth from the already ragged scarf. The fabric wasn't terribly clean, as it was damp with sweat, and it certainly wasn't meant to be used as bandaging; but it would have to do for the time being. It was likely Watto wouldn't allow Elara time to sit aside and properly take care of it, which meant Elara would have to wait till she and Anakin returned home for the day. She hastily wrapped the off-white fabric around her palm, tying it off with her the aid of her teeth and calloused fingers. She smoothed a hand over her hair, which was drawn back in a plait, and the flyaway strands stayed put thanks to the moisture her sweat provided. The now fraying scarf was looped around her neck loosely, protecting her skin from the barrage of sun beams.

After doing a final sweep of the junk piles for parts that needed cleaning, Elara hoisted the bag of parts onto her shoulder. She made her way back into Watto's dismal little shop, where the two Skywalker siblings worked day-in and day-out. The protection from the sun was welcome, as was the slight shift in temperature. She fell into the seat beside Anakin, who was taking a damp cloth to a rubbish bin in order to rid it of sand and dust. The bag of parts was dropped none-too-gently between her feet, which were clad in worn shoes that had seen years of abuse. Elara wrenched the scarf from around her neck and swept it over her face, collecting the sweat that glistened on her forehead, nose, and chin.

"What happened to your hand?" Anakin asked, looking up from the bin he'd been cleaning. Elara cast her scarf aside, glanced at her hand, and shrugged indifferently.

"Sliced it open on some scrap. It'll be okay," she assured him. She reached out and ruffled his head of blond hair fondly, grinning when he swatted her hand away; he was smiling nonetheless. Elara extracted a microvalve and snatched a stiff bristled brush off the table behind her. She harshly began to scrub at the dried oil caked onto the metal, face pinching in concentration as she worked. "How have things in here been? Any customers stop by?"

"No. Why? You usually love it when there aren't any customers. It means we go home sooner," he pointed out. Elara shrugged and picked at some of the caked on oil with her thumb nail.

"Just had a feeling today would be different," she casually mentioned. Their days typically followed the same schedule. They awoke early, worked for Watto all day, and returned home just before the suns started to set. However, when Elara had gotten to the shop that day, a strange feeling washed over her. A deep tug somewhere in her gut that gave her pause. That pause allowed her to simply think 'something will be different today.' But, as far as she had seen, everything was going as it usually did. No customers had stopped in, she and Anakin were busy cleaning parts, and Watto could be heard bumbling somewhere not too far off.

The two cleaned parts in amiable silence, sometimes stopping to guess what sort of ship the objects hailed from. They were fascinated by flight. It seemed like it would be so freeing to fly through the galaxy, going wherever it was they wanted to go. Elara had heard tales of planets that were covered in greenery, and the mental image that appeared in her head was gorgeous. Tatooine was set in shades of tan and brown and provided monotonous scenery that she'd become far too used to. But to think that there were places, such as Naboo, where the landscape varied greatly, made Elara feel starry-eyed. What she wouldn't give to see a waterfall, or a forest, or even the smallest patch of lush green grass. There was so much she had never seen before. So much that she longed to see. Just as Elara was getting the lost in her imagination, she felt something stir in the atmosphere. She felt the pull in her gut again, just as she had that morning. Elara's brows pinched together and she raised her head, no longer interested in the dirty fan switch in her hand.

" _Boy! Girl! Get in here now!_ " called Watto's harsh voice. Knowing better than to keep the Toydarian waiting, the siblings rose from their seats and set their work aside. Elara ushered Anakin out in front of her, scrubbing oil off her hands with a rag. When they entered the shop front, Watto turned to them and dropped to hover at Elara's sight-line. " _What took you two so long?_ " He had spoken gruffly in Huttese. It wasn't a graceful language; in fact, it was quite throaty and, sometimes, guttural, but it was common to hear on Tatooine.

" _We were cleaning the bin––and the parts––like you asked,_ " Anakin answered, hopping up onto the curving stone work bench. Watto seemed to suppress a sneer; he started to make a displeased sound in the back of his throat, clearly not pleased with Anakin's excuse. The boy raised both eyebrows challengingly and his sister suppressed the urge to sigh. Anakin had a tendency to push boundaries, question rules, and, as a result got in trouble on occasion. Elara, ever the big sister, always did her best to soothe the situation if she was able to. Hence was why Elara stepped forward and drew the Toydarian's attention to herself.

" _We set everything aside properly so the goods weren't damaged_ ," she placated quickly. It was always useful to tack on the state of his goods, as he usually bit their heads off if the parts were so much as a little too scratched. Watto made a sound that could have been considered begrudgingly contented. He waved a hand at them and brushed their excuses aside nonetheless. He wasn't a pleasant creature, and he never had been. Elara suspected he never would be. But he was significantly better than the Skywalker family's previous slave master, Gardulla the Hutt, who'd had Elara work in a cantina for absurdly long hours.

" _Watch the store; I've got selling to do!_ " His expression became much more pleasant when he turned to the his customers, whom Elara fully took in for the first time.

There was a pretty girl, dressed simply––yet elegantly––in a blue and grey tunic, dark billowing trousers, and shoes that were not meant for traveling across sand. Most intriguing was her hair, which was pulled back with a number of elaborate braids, the likes of which Elara had never seen before. The girl was accompanied by a man, who seemed far better dressed for Tatooine––simple but light weight trousers, a roughspun poncho, and knee-high boots that would certainly prevent sand from easily slipping into them. His face was kind and calm, and framed by greying brown locks of hair that were partially drawn back into a small ponytail at the back of his head. A gangly Gungan had started to peruse the shop, taking in everything in sight with wide eyes and a tilt of the head. Then there was an astromech droid, white and blue in color, that sat behind its two human companions. If there was one thing that was painfully obvious, it was that they were strangers to Tatooine; if they had meant to blend in, they had done a terrible job of it.

"So… let me take you out back, huh? Ni you'll find you what you need!" Watto encouraged, gliding towards the entrance to the junkyard. The man started to follow, eyes briefly flickering towards the Skywalker siblings. Elara's head cocked to the side a fraction, her eyes curiously sticking with the man as he moved through the shop. He paused beside the Gungan, who stood just by the door, and pulled something out of his hand.

"Don't touch _anything_ ," the man ordered firmly, setting the part aside. The Gungan held up his hands and waggled his tongue through the air mockingly whilst the poncho wearing man disappeared with Watto. Elara smirked and folded up the dirty rag that had been clenched in her fist, placing it atop the counter to collect later. Anakin was intently staring at the girl who had been left behind, his eyes scanning her over from head to toe.

"Are you an angel?" he suddenly asked. Elara gaped at her younger brother and reached out to take him by the shoulder.

"Ani!" she admonished quietly. He ignored her, however, and shifted his shoulder so her hand slipped away. Elara shook her head and sent an apologetic look towards the girl, who was staring at Anakin with a smile on her face.

"What?"

"An angel! We've heard the deep space pilots talk about them. They're the most beautiful creatures in the universe; they live in the moons of Iego, I think," Anakin explained, taking to cleaning a spare part that had been sitting on the counter. The girl's brows rose and a small little laugh passed between her lips.

"You're a funny little boy," the girl commented, taking a couple steps closer. "How do you know so much?"

"We get plenty of star pilots and traders who stop by for parts," Elara informed, hefting a heavy box of clean parts off the floor. The thing had been a tripping hazard for the last two days and Watto hadn't had the good graces to move it. Leaning back to keep her balance, she started to move across the room, talking over her shoulder as she went. "They're particularly good story tellers, and we're sometimes the first people outside of their squadron or crew they talk to. We get all of the uncensored bits, told in excited ramblings." Elara brushed past the Gungan, who leapt back with a 'mesa so sorry!' and allowed her to place the box on a cluttered looking shelf. She shook out her fingers, and briefly noticed that a spot of red had started to form on her bandage. She'd begun to bleed.

"I'm a pilot, you know. So is my sister; and one day, we're gonna fly away from this place." Anakin sounded proud, a confidence in his tone often found in men much older than he was. The girl arched both brows, taking in the information with surprise.

"You're a pilot?" she asked.

"All my life!" Anakin confirmed, looking up from his lap.

"And you?" The girl had turned to Elara, who shrugged and considered the question. Truth be told she'd initially become a pilot out of necessity––speeders were the easiest way to get around the planet, and with the errands she was often sent on, she had needed to know basic flight skills. Basic skills had developed when she'd learned her love of flight; or, rather, developed as much as she could teach herself.

"Can't say I've done it my whole life, but I've been doing it for a respectable amount of time," Elara laughed. "Although, he's better than I am, and I'm ten years his senior." The girl cocked her head to the side curiously, eyes dancing between the siblings in consideration.

"How long have you been here?"

"We've been in Mos Espa almost six years, I think. He was three and I must have just turned thirteen; we were sold, along with our mother, to Gardulla the Hutt. It was to our fortune that she lost us when she bet wrong on a podrace; and here we are." Elara had begun to gently prod her bandaged hand, recalling memories of years long since gone. The wound had started to sting, but it wasn't anything she couldn't ignore. The girl's face had gone slack and the color had drained from her cheeks. The look read as completely appalled.

"You're slaves?" she asked incredulously. Anakin's young features crumpled at the lowly title and his hands curled around the ship part in his hand.

"We're _people_ and my name is Anakin!" he shot back hotly. Elara gave her brother a look from across the shop; he'd always had a temper that was quick to flare and hard to suppress.

"Ani, she didn't mean any harm, she's just… surprised," Elara reasoned in a calm tone. Anakin sighed heavily and looked down at his feet, which dangled in the air. Turning to the girl, Elara offered a kind smile and bobbed her head once in a nod. "I'm Elara, by the way."

"I'm sorry I don't fully understand. This is a strange place to me," the girl attempted to placate, looking between the two Skywalkers again. Before anyone could say something else, there was a series of crashes, and the Gungan let out an exclamation of surprise. Elara watched as a droid, which had accidentally been activated, stumbled out of its alcove and into the main shop, running into everything as the Gungan attempted to wrangle it. She stuttered a step forward, hands outstretched in the need to assist.

"No–– _no_ , that won't work!" she called to the Gungan, who had grabbed the droid by its skinny neck. He made a questioning sound and gave it a little shake. "Well, _that_ certainly isn't going to turn it off." The droid was given a harsher shake, which only caused it to lash out and swipe at its captor.

"Hit the nose!" Anakin prompted, as though it was obvious. The droid was dropped and then promptly punched square in the face, which caused it to freeze up and collapse in on itself. Elara swooped in and picked up the compact droid and went about fixing the Gungan's mess, well aware that Watto would sooner blame the slaves for the mess, rather than his customers. She hauled an old protocol droid back into its rightful standing position and began to work on brushing off its shiny exterior. There were a couple of scuff marks that would need tending to, but that was a task for a later time. She removed one of its eye pieces, rubbed it against her sleeve and fitted it back into place with a little _pop_. As she worked, Elara thought to the man that was touring the junkyard for parts. There was something peculiar about him; something that made him stand out against his other companions. It wasn't anything to do with the way he dressed or the way he held himself, it was something about his… presence, Elara wanted to say. Something about the way the atmosphere felt around him.

There was a loud clatter as something tipped over and crashed to the floor. Elara flinched and decided that it was probably best not to turn around. Instead, she focused her gaze on the unlit eyes of the protocol droid and sighed heavily through her nose. She pinched the edge of her tunic sleeve between her fingers and raised her arm to buff a spot on the droid's head.

"We'll get you as good as new again, I promise…" she murmured as she began picking at some sand that had found its way into one of the seams in the metal. Her nose twitched at another scuffling in the room just behind her.

"We're leaving," said the pleasantly gruff voice of the long haired man. Looking over her shoulder, Elara saw him sweeping towards the shop door with the astromech droid in tow. "Jar-Jar." The Gungan, presumably named Jar-Jar, squealed and hurtled away from the mess he'd made, clearly happy to be leaving the cluttered shop. The girl, whom had been idly chatting with Anakin, smiled at the young blonde boy and started backing towards the door.

"It was nice to meet you, Anakin. And you as well, Elara," she said sweetly before exiting the shop with the rest of her companions. Anakin craned his head upwards and sideways, trying to catch one last glimpse of her, if Elara could guess right.

"I was glad to meet you, too!" he called after her. Elara smiled to herself and leant herself against the archway to the small alcove. Watto drifted in through the back door, a sneer on his sagging lips.

" _Outlanders,_ " he groaned in Huttese, " _they think we know nothing._ "

" _They seemed nice to us,_ " Anakin answered.

" _Clean the racks––then you can go home_."

With an exclamation of excitement, Anakin leapt off the counter and immediately went about starting his work. Elara smiled, but was slow to follow. She paused at the back door and looked over her shoulder to the shop's entrance. The arrival of the mysterious travelers weighed on her mind. It wasn't particularly heavy or foreboding, but it was weight nonetheless. Yes, she had expected the day to be different… And if the pull in her gut told her anything, it was that the day was only going to continue following that pattern.

OOOO

"Where do you think they're from?" Anakin asked as they wove their way through Mos Espa's streets. Elara hummed and adjusted her scarf, which was loosely draped over her head and looped around her neck. The subject of conversation had been the would-be customers that had stopped by the shop earlier. Anakin had lingered on questions pertaining to the pretty young girl whom they'd held conversation with; Elara had a strange feeling that he had taken a severe––and very adorable––liking to her.

"I can't say. Though, I imagine wherever they're from, it's far better than here…" Elara trailed off. She pictured them coming from some planet far from the Outer Rim, a place where it was common to wear clothing in rich colors that didn't remind one of sand and dirt. Aside from the Gungan, they'd seemed like a well put-together bunch, operating politely and calmly, which was a breath of fresh air. A lot of clients Watto got were heavily associated with the Hutts, and the higher powers knew how awful they could be.

"Hey, isn't that the Gungan from before?" Anakin asked, pointing down the street. Elara narrowed her eyes to better see through the sunlight and pursed her lips at the sight she was welcomed with. It was, in fact, Jar-Jar. He was sprawled out across the sandy street with a Dug by the name of Sebulba looming over him, a hand curled around Jar-Jar's throat.

"Oh, no…" Elara murmured. She started to walk faster, fingers curling into loose fists. Sebulba was nasty in every meaning of the word; if someone got on his bad side, they would remain there for as long as they had the misfortune to live. He held grudges the way a stingy salesmen clung to money. Inhaling sharply, Elara opened her mouth and shouted. "Hey!" The Dug looked up sharply, eyes narrowing at one of his Podracing rivals. He sneered and spat a particularly unsavory insult under his breath. Placing both hands on her hips, Elara glared down at the Dug and the fallen Gungan. " _Let him go, Sebulba. I'm sure that whatever he did wasn't enough to warrant a beating from the meanest Dug on Tatooine._ "

" _Who are you to say what he does and doesn't deserve?_ " Sebulba spat, tightening his grip on Jar-Jar's throat. " _You're just a slave, girl, you have no authority to tell me what to do._ " Elara bit the insides of her cheeks and pursed her lips. There were times it was hard not to feel insulted by the title of 'slave.' It made her feel powerless, and, unfortunately, she often was.

" _Maybe not. But I do have the common decency to look after a friend,_ " Elara said, gesturing to Jar-Jar. Sebulba scoffed at the word 'friend' and then raised a fist to bring down on the frightened Gungan.

" _Besides, he's a big-time Outlander,_ " Anakin threw in, having marched forward to stand right beside his sister. The Dug glared at the two siblings, whom he'd raced against a number of times before. Watto had a habit of placing Elara and Anakin in the Podraces, even when he knew their chances of winning were slim; he always bet on Sebulba, anyway. Sebulba stalked closer to them, and Elara grabbed hold of Anakin's shoulder protectively. Anakin didn't shrug her off like he had earlier, but instead fixed the dug with a sarcastically challenging expression. Sharp eyes flickered between the two Skywalkers, the sneer on his face strengthening in annoyance.

" _I'd hate to see either of you diced before we race again! The next time any of us race against each other… It will be the end of you. If neither of you were slaves, I'd squash you both now!_ " Sebulba spat before skulking away.

" _Yeah, it'd be a pity if you had to pay for us,_ " Anakin tossed as a final retort. Elara squeezed her brother's shoulder and drew his attention up to her. The final remark had been meant to sound sarcastic and biting, but she had detected an undertone of sadness in her brother's voice. She rubbed his tunic clad shoulder and then turned her gaze forward. The man, girl, and astromech droid from the shop were headed their way.

"Hi," Anakin said easily as the man eyed them curiously.

"Hi there," he replied. Elara aided him in pulling Jar-Jar to his feet, her scarf slipping off the crown of her head as she leaned backwards.

"Your buddy here was about to be turned into orange goo. He picked a fight with a Dug. An especially dangerous Dug called Sebulba."

"Mesa haten crunchen. Das da las ting mesa want!" Jar-Jar informed, brushing himself off. Elara crossed her arms and glanced in the direction Sebulba had slipped off in, a grimace pulling at her lips. He was seated at a table not too far off, practically snarling at the small group that had assembled. Her lips pursed as she turned her attention back to her acquaintances.

"It doesn't matter if you want it or don't want it. If you so much as look at Sebulba wrong you'll get punished for it. You're very lucky he took the chance to talk to you before threatening a beating; he isn't usually that kind," Elara mentioned, recalling many a time Sebulba had lost his temper at some unsuspecting passerby.

"Nevertheless, the boy and the girl are right. You were heading into trouble," the man wisely informed Jar-Jar. He returned his gaze to the two siblings and nodded at them with solemn gratefulness. "Thanks, my young friends." Elara's lips twitched slightly in annoyance at the use of the word 'young.' She hadn't felt particularly young for a very long time; the life of a slave tended to take that joy away. When the group that had entered the shop earlier started to move off in an decided, but clearly aimless, direction, the Skywalkers started to follow.

Elara jogged forward in order to keep pace with the intriguing man in the poncho. She looked him over from head-to-toe, brows slightly pinched. Again, she felt that slight change in the air around him, as though the world's natural energy flowed around him differently.

"Do you know where you're going?" she inquired. "Forgive me saying, but, I take it you aren't from around here and, as demonstrated by your friend, running into the wrong person––or place––can get you in trouble." The man looked down at her with a soft gaze that, once again, held that curious gleam she had seen before. The startings of a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.

"Your concern is most admirable," he complimented as they walked. Elara smiled softly and raised her shoulders in what was supposed to be a shrug. The dismissive gesture was not enough to mask the true concern that laced her voice when she responded.

"I know what it's like to be caught in a bad situation. So, again, I ask: do you know where you're going?"

"We're just sight-seeing while we attempt to figure out how to acquire parts for our ship."

A laugh bubbled out of Elara's throat and she stopped in the middle of the street, hands falling to rest on her hips. The man looked at her mildly surprised, brows rising as she smirked at him and the rest of his companions. "Sight-seeing in Mos Espa? On _Tatooine?_ If you flew here than you've already seen what the whole planet looks like––lots of sand and smatterings of settlements here and there. The better option would be to stop into a cantina, get out of the sun, and drink while you contemplate your next move. That's what everyone here does."

"I'm afraid we don't have the luxury; we need to get off planet as soon as possible," the man told her, a hidden urgency in his tone. Elara snorted and nodded, looking up and down the dusty street the stood in; everyone was lounging under awnings to protect themselves from the sun, drinking out of flasks that were hidden away in layers of lightweight fabric. The people of Tatooine were generally very kind, even in the territories owned by the Hutts. There were, of course, people such as Sebulba and Watto, but the general public was typically quite pleasant. The planet somehow always managed to feel desolate, despite its population. There was only so much that a native to Tatooine could do, especially if their lot in life was already decided. It was likely Elara and Anakin and their mother, Shmi, would remain slaves for the rest of their lives. It was that feeling of hopelessness that drove Elara to want to leave; she wanted to take control of her own life, not leave it in the hands of some grimy Toydarian.

"You and us all," Elara murmured under her breath.

The man looked towards the sky, eyes narrowing as a breeze whooshed down the street. Elara clutched her scarf to her neck, brows furrowing at the strength of the wind; sand bit at her face and she squinted her eyes against the barrage of sediment. From the corner of her eye, she saw Anakin extend a hand towards the man; in his small palm was a pallie, a sort of fruit grown in Tatooine's underground farms.

"Here, you'll like these pallies," Anakin told him. When the man didn't immediately respond, the young boy gently tapped his stomach. "Here." The man's brows rose and he nodded thankfully, taking the small fruit.

"Thank you." He lifted the bottom of his poncho in order to stash the fruit away inside a pouch around his waist. When the roughspun fabric rose, Elara caught sight of something incredibly peculiar. Hanging from his belt was a cylindrical hilt made of shining metal, black hand-grips, and a single button. Elara's mouth fell open a fraction, recognizing exactly what it was: a lightsaber hilt. Her eyes immediately flew to Anakin's, which were wide with amazement. They had heard stories of the Jedi, amazing and wondrous adventures that took the renowned Knights all across the galaxy. Tales that had documented how they had kept the peace and maintained the balance of the Force; horrifying stories of Jedi that turned to the Dark Side and became Sith. They had grown up on such stories, and had, in turn, dreamed of becoming one themselves.

"Oh, my bones are aching. Storm's coming up, Ani, Elara. You better get home quick!" Jira, the kind old woman who ran the fruit stand, urged. Elara immediately tugged her scarf over her head again, looking towards the sky as though she would be able to see the oncoming sandstorm. A thought suddenly struck her and she faced her new acquaintance with wide eyes.

"Do you have shelter?" Elara asked. The man began to walk away from the stand calmly, seemingly unperturbed by the oncoming storm.

"We'll head back to our ship," he told them. Anakin fell into step with his sister and cocked his head to the side.

"Is it far?"Anakin asked, the wind steadily beginning to pick up. The girl in the blue tunic vaguely gestured in a general direction.

"It's on the outskirts," she informed. Elara shook her head with a regretful expression painted across her face.

"You won't reach the outskirts before the storm hits. Sandstorms are extremely dangerous, and you don't want to be caught in one unprepared and unprotected. You can take shelter with us at home, it isn't too far off." Elara strode forward and took the lead, her stride determined and her eyes narrowed into the gathering wind.

Elara and Anakin led the group through Mos Espa as the storm kicked up. Elara had pulled her scarf around the bottom half of her face, keeping one hand held up to shield her eyes from the sand that flew through the air. It hit exposed skin with pin-prick pains, stinging constantly as they trudged through the gale-force winds. The Skywalker household was located in a number of slave dwellings, all of which looked almost exactly the same. Once inside, with the door firmly shut, Anakin began to call out for his mother, informing her of their return. Elara peeled the scarf from around her head and shook out the sand that had stuck itself into the folds of fabric. A sweet faced older woman appeared from one of the rooms, wiping her hands off on a dish rag. Her eyes widened in surprise, taking in the amount of people in her small home.

"These are our friends, mom," Anakin told her, smiling over at the girl, whom had revealed her name was Padmé.

"I'm Qui-Gon Jinn," the man introduced, giving a small but respective bow to Shmi. Anakin excitedly grabbed hold of Padmé's hand, informing her of the fact he was building a droid. He dragged her across the room so he could show her, with R2-D2 following. "Your children were kind enough to offer us shelter."

Shmi looked to her daughter, who was leaned to the side slightly, unbraiding her hair. It had still managed to get sandy despite her head covering, much to her annoyance. Elara, realizing that both Qui-Gon and Shmi were watching her, smiled. She piled all of her dark blonde hair over one shoulder and looked genuinely proud that she'd gotten the group to safety. Her mother slowly began to smile, clasping her hands together.

"That sounds like my children. So kind hearted," she commended. Returning her gaze to Qui-Gon, she smiled a fraction wider. "You're welcome to rest here till the storm is over." Qui-Gon again inclined his head to her in thanks, that ever-calm smile resting easily on his lips. Shmi was about to turn away when her gaze slid down to Elara's hands. She froze when she saw the bandaging, eyes going wide. "Elara––"

"It's only a cut!" Elara quickly placated, curling her fingers inward to hide the blood stain that had bloomed across her palm. Shmi looked the perfect picture of motherly concern, lips pulled into a frown, eyes shining with worry. Elara smiled at her mother brightly and squeezed her mother's shoulder with her uninjured hand. "Really, I'm fine. It was just a piece of scrap at the shop."

"Perhaps you would allow me to assist you with cleaning it––if only as a small repayment for allowing us to take shelter here," Qui-Gon offered, taking a gallant step forward. Elara held her bandaged hand to her stomach for a moment before nodding her agreement.

The two sat across from each other at the table, with Elara's arm stretched out across it. Qui-Gon was dutifully cleaning sand out of the cut, gently dabbing at it with an antiseptic dampened cloth. Her hand was gently cradled in his larger palm, her fingers flexed and pressed together. They had been sitting in silence, listening to Jar-Jar and Shmi in the kitchen, and Anakin and Padmé in the adjoining room with R2-D2 and C3PO, the protocol droid he had been working on building.

"I once again must thank you for everything you've done," Qui-Gon told her. Elara again tried for a dismissive shrug, but the smile on her face betrayed her well of pride. "It was very brave of you to stand up for someone you hardly know; _and_ to offer a group of strangers your home for shelter. That is a rare kind of selflessness that I appreciate very much."

"Someone has to be kind. If no-one was, the galaxy would be a far colder place," Elara murmured thoughtfully. A smile crossed the man's face as he gently dragged the cloth along the length of the cut. His eyes twinkled kindly when he smiled, Elara noticed; she also realized that, despite the fact she didn't know the man in any regard, she felt remarkably at ease with him.

"It's because of people like you, and your brother, that the galaxy is less cold." Qui-Gon saw that Elara had smirked wryly, her lips pulling to one side in a manner that reminded him remarkably of a certain blond Padawan. "Even the smallest of deeds can change the universe, Elara."

Elara was about to respond when her attention was acutely drawn to his left hand. It swept to the side in order to set aside the cloth, his attention directed elsewhere. Her eyes widened a fraction, well aware that Qui-Gon was about to knock over a bottle from the first aid kit. Elara's right hand shot out and, half a second later, a bottle fell straight into her palm, the liquid sloshing around inside. The two at the table remained still and silent for a moment, and Qui-Gon stared at her hand and the bottle, brows having knit together.

"That's quite a set of reflexes you have," he mentioned slowly, thoughtfully. Elara weighed the bottle in her hand for a second before righting it and setting it back atop the table; a faint smile appeared on her face. It was a frequent occurrence for either of the Skywalker children to catch something just before it hit the ground, or leap out of the way as a large piece of scrap fell off one of the piles in the junkyard.

"I'm thankful for them. They've saved my hide more than once; you need good reflexes in Podracing, it's the only way you make it out alive," she explained.

Qui-Gon slowly began to bind her hand with fresh bandages, thoughtfully staring at her hand as he did so. Elara began to tell him about the time a greater krayt dragon had almost taken her and her speeder out of commission. The story showcased her quick reflexes and fast thinking, despite the panic she had undoubtedly. Qui-Gon mulled over his thoughts, adjusting the bandages as he wound them around her palm. Elara's reflexes were so quick and assured that it was almost as if she had known what was going to happen just moments before it did. That was foresight; a potential sign that one was Force sensitive. He'd had his suspicions the moment he had stepped into the shop, having felt a strange elevation in the Force. Now there was evidence to support his suspicions.

"Thank you, Qui-Gon," Elara thanked, once he had tied off the bandage. It was far better wrapped than it had been earlier in the day, and for that, she was very thankful. She began to put all of the medical supplies back into its small woven basket and went about storing it away. The Jedi Master watched at she left, raising a hand to stroke his beard. Perhaps their emergency stop to Tatooine was fated; because if there was one thing he could sense, it was that the Force was strong with the Skywalkers.

 _ **Afterword:**_ _**Next chapter things get more exciting, I promise! Regardless, I hope you all enjoyed reading the chapter; I have had a blast writing this thus far and hope to see you all next chapter! Thank you for taking the time to read!**_

 _ **~Mary**_


	2. A Life Changed

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize._

2\. A Life Changed

It had been a very long time since the Skywalker household had seen more than three people sitting at their small and humble dining table. The family seemed rather thankful for the company, even it was the company of strangers. Conversation, however, around the table had become decidedly somber decidedly fast. It had quickly turned to what it was like to live as a slave, a topic not taken lightly or jokingly. Jar-Jar had inquired why they hadn't just left Mos Espa or, better yet, the planet itself. Escape their life and start anew elsewhere; start a better life somewhere they wouldn't be deemed slaves. Elara had mentioned the fact that it was likely, if they escaped, a bounty hunter would be informed of their missing presences and they would be hunted down. They lived in Hutt territory and the bounty hunters were particularly ruthless, as they knew they would be paid handsomely for the return of a runaway slave.

"Besides, all slaves have transmitters placed inside their bodies somewhere," Shmi informed, refilling everyone's glasses. Anakin pointed to his sister from across the table, his ragged shirt sleeve dangling from around his wrist limply.

"Elara and I are working on a scanner to try and locate ours," he stated.

"Any attempt to escape…"

"And they blow you up!" Anakin slammed his hand down atop the table as he exclaimed, " _Boom!_ " Padmé and Jar-Jar jumped, looking positively horrified at the prospect. Elara's lips turned down at the corners, recalling a particularly gruesome experience she'd had years ago.

"I've witnessed it myself," she said, picking up a well-used fork. The memory of a plume of sand and a flail of disembodied limbs came to mind and she shook her head to rid herself of it. It had given her nightmares for weeks.

"How wude!" Jar-Jar proclaimed before downing half of his refilled glass. Shmi took her seat beside her daughter and smoothed out her skirts with time weathered hands. Padmé shook her head, dragging the edge of her fork gently across her plate.

"I can't believe there's still slavery in the galaxy," Padmé admitted, sounding sad. "The Republic's anti-slavery laws are––"

"The Republic doesn't exist out here. We must survive on our own," Shmi interrupted gently. Elara sipped at her own glass of blue milk, brows furrowing when she watched Jar-Jar snatch a pallie out of the bowl right in front of him… using his tongue. Beside her, at the head of the table, Qui-Gon slowly gave the Gungan a dirty look. After swallowing audibly, Jar-Jar looked to everyone at the table, having the good-graces to look sheepish.

"Excuse me."

"Has anyone ever seen a Podrace?" Anakin suddenly asked, happily changing the conversation topic. Padmé shook her head while Qui-Gon nodded.

"They have Podracing on Malastare. Very fast, _very_ dangerous," he said, popping a pallie into his mouth.

"My sister and I are the only humans that can do it," Anakin announced proudly, tapping his fingers against the table. Elara noticed that their mother's expression had shifted, the talk of Podracing having brought a familiar crease of concern to her forehead.

"Watto enters us in the races any chance he can get," Elara tacked on. "He never bets on us, though; I think he just enters us to show that he can."

"You two must have Jedi reflexes if you race Pods," Qui-Gon slyly suggested. Jar-Jar's tongue shot out to grab another fruit, but Qui-Gon grabbed the creature's tongue with his fingers, preventing him from doing so. "Don't do that again." Glancing at one another, Anakin and Elara shared a silent but meaningful look. Anakin shifted in his seat, clearly taking the initiative to ask.

"You're a Jedi Knight, aren't you?" he asked. The mood around the table shifted to one of apprehension. Even if they hadn't received an answer, the silence would have spoken enough. Anakin had touched on a subject they were wary to discuss, which only meant one thing––their suspicions were correct.

"What makes you think that?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Elara and I saw your laser sword––only Jedi carry that sort of weapon." Qui-Gon glanced between the siblings, leaning back in his seat. Elara was watching him carefully, head cocked to the side in careful calculation. Just as he had been able to feel the shift in the Force around her, she must have felt the same around him. A faint smile appeared on his face.

"Perhaps I killed a Jedi and took it from him."

"I don't think so. _No one_ can kill a Jedi," Anakin informed adamantly. Elara offered her younger brother a startlingly serious expression.

"Ani, nobody's invincible, no matter how powerful they are," she told him. The tone of voice she had used made it clear that she'd lectured him on a similar topic before. He wanted to believe that there were people and creatures that could cheat death. The prospect made him reckless at times, believing that he, too, could be that way. It had caused Shmi and Elara many a scare, especially when he insisted on taking out the half-finished Podracer out for test runs.

"I wish that were true," Qui-Gon said, nodding his agreement to Elara's statement.

"I had a dream I was a Jedi. I came back here and freed all the slaves…" Anakin had looked down at the table, turning his fork over multiple times. Looking down the table at Qui-Gon he asked, with heart wrenching hope in his voice, "Have you come to free us?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"I think you have," disagreed Anakin, lifting his chin stubbornly. "Why else would you be here?" As Anakin looked to Padmé, Qui-Gon looked to Elara. She was staring at him with a slightly furrowed brow and the startings of a frown. She knew that wasn't why the Jedi Master was there. However, what her gut _did_ tell her was that they weren't on Tatooine just to get parts for a ship. There was something else going on. Something that made the air permeated with tension and worry; it came off their guests in waves. It was hard to ignore.

"You're here for something important," Elara said, voice soft. It was so quiet that he was unsure whether or not anyone besides him was supposed to hear it. Qui-Gon leaned forward against the table, keeping eye contact with her. He then broke her gaze in order to glance along the length of the table at Anakin.

"I can see there's no fooling either of you. We're on our way to Coruscant, the central  
system in the Republic, on a very important mission." He had spoken in a hushed tone, as though fearing someone untrustworthy would overhear.

"How did you end up in the Outer Rim? We're quite aways away from Coruscant," Elara mentioned, picturing a vague and rough starmap in her head. They couldn't have even taken a wrong turn to get to Tatooine; they would have had to take _multiple_ wrong turns.

"Our ship was damaged and we're stranded here until we can repair it," Padmé informed.

"I can help! So can Elara! Together, we can fix _anything_ ," offered Anakin brightly, happy to offer his skillset. Qui-Gon chuckled under his breath and reached up to stroke his beard.

"I'm sure you can. But first we must acquire the parts we need," he backstepped, voice becoming thoughtful.

"Wit no nutten mula to trade," Jar-Jar reminded the Jedi.

Padmé glanced hopefully at the Tatooine natives. "These junk dealers must have a weakness of some kind."

"Gambling," Shmi replied almost immediately. "Everything here revolves around betting on those awful races."

Qui-Gon considered the newly given information, lips pursing for a moment. He offered a slow nod. "Podracing… Greed can be a powerful ally." Feeling driven to help the kind man, Elara sat forward in her seat. She gestured to a small back door, against which the wind howled and raged, blasting it with sand.

"Anakin and I have been working on building our own Podracer. It should be one of the fastest ones ever built once it's ready," she told him. Anakin perked up at the mention of the racer and nodded his head eagerly.

"There's a big race tomorrow on Boonta Eve. You could enter our pod," he suggested, finishing his sister's thought. Shmi looked between both of her children with horror growing in her expression.

"Anakin!" She looked to her eldest child with a clearly admonishing look. " _Elara_. Watto won't let you!"

"Watto doesn't know we've built it!" Anakin pointed to Qui-Gon, suddenly seeming much older than he was. "You could make him think it was yours and get either Elara or I to pilot it for you."

"I don't want _either of you_ to race. It's awful! I die every time Watto makes you do it!" Shmi's expression crumpled and her eyes became saddened. Elara took her hand under the table and squeezed it, guilt starting to rise up in her stomach.

"But, mom, I love it! So does Elara, but she never admits it because it makes you sad!" With guilt welling up swiftly, Elara looked down at her plate, hand going limp around Shmi's. From her peripheral vision, she saw her mother look at her with a frown on her face. What hurt was the fact that Anakin was right. She _did_ love racing, if only for the fact that flying any sort of contraption made her feel _free_. As though she could do whatever she wanted because she controlled the way that she moved, the path she took, and had the chance to change the outcome of the race. Everything that she'd always wanted to do with her life. "The prize money would more than pay for the parts they need."

"Anakin…"

"Your mother is right," voiced Qui-Gon, clearly not fond of the idea of letting either of them race. "Is there anyone friendly to the Republic who can help us?"

Shmi shook her head and quietly said, "No…"

Inhaling slowly, Elara raised her head and steeled her expression. She turned to face her mother with a composed expression that made her seem well older than she was. Both of her hands wrapped themselves around Shmi's and she squeezed them gently. "You've always said that the galaxy––the universe––is a far colder place when no one is kind to each other. That the biggest problem is that no one helps one another. Let us help someone who desperately needs it…" She glanced over her shoulder at Qui-Gon, who was watching the exchange with a thoughtful expression. "Even the smallest acts can change the universe."

Smi stared at her daughter with glassy eyes that gleamed with something that was beginning to edge towards pride. A smile slowly pulled at her lips, but she'd ducked her head to hide it. Padmé cleared her throat softly to grab the older woman's attention.

"I'm sure Qui-Gon doesn't want to put your children in danger. We''ll find some other way," she reasoned in a diplomatic tone. Shmi shook her head, extracted her hands from Elara's and raised her head. Gone was the proud little smile that had been on her mouth moments ago, and a look of resolve had taken its place.

"No. There is no other way," Shmi sadly admitted. "I may not like it, but… They _can_ help you. They were _meant_ to help you."

OOOO

After the storm had died down, Qui-Gon had gone to make a deal with Watto. It was decided upon that Qui-Gon would be sponsoring Anakin and Elara in the race, using his Nubian ship; Watto would front the entry and keep the winnings minus the cost of the parts needed if they won. If they lost, he would get to keep the Nubian. Watto had eagerly accepted the deal, obviously confident that he would be getting the ship in the end. His faith in the racing abilities of his slaves was clearly slim to non-existent.

Qui-Gon stood on the porch outside the Skywalker's home, staring out into the distance. He had just finished speaking with his Padawan, Obi-Wan, assuring the young man that the plan was going to work out. As he said, there was something about the Skywalker children… Just as he pocketed his comlink, Shmi appeared on the porch, eyeing the Jedi with some amount of wariness. But a smile appeared on her face nonetheless as she approached him. He returned the smile when she stopped beside him, joining in on watching Anakin and Elara finish up work on the Podracer.

"You should be very proud of your children. They give without any thought of reward," Qui-Gon commended, sounding impressed. Shmi smiled and clasped her hands over her stomach, laughing gently when Elara ruffled Anakin's hair, much to his annoyance.

"They know nothing of greed. They have…"

"They have special powers." Qui-Gon was smiling kindly, staring down at the woman beside him. She looked up at him and nodded, looking almost relieved that he had said it for her.

"Yes."

"They can see things before they happen. That's why it appears they have such quick reflexes––it's a Jedi trait," he informed. He recalled the way Elara had stopped the bottle from tipping over earlier, and the stories of Podracing Anakin had told him as they walked back to Watto's shop earlier.

"They both deserve better than a slave's life…" Shmi sighed sadly. Qui-Gon nodded sympathetically.

"Had they been born in the Republic, we would have identified them early. The Force is unusually strong with them, that much is clear. Who is their father?" Qui-Gon turned to face Shmi square-on, the conversation becoming more personal and more private. She stared at him silently for a prolonged moment, chewing over the right words to say. Finally, she settled on the simplest explanation she could give. The plain and simple truth.

"There was no father. For either of them. I thought it was… strange when I fell pregnant with Elara. But then it happened again with Anakin. I carried them, I gave birth, I raised them… I can't explain what happened." Qui-Gon nodded, brows furrowing at her story. He crossed both arms over his chest and felt his heartbeat speed up a fraction. Surely this didn't mean what he thought it did. "Can you help them?"

"I don't know. I didn't actually come here to free slaves," he said. Shmi gave a single and solemn nod, turning to look back at her children, whom were hard at work putting the finishing touches on the Podracer. Elara lifted Anakin up into the pilot's seat, handing over a box of tools that they'd snagged from the shop years ago.

"They deserve so much more… More than this place can offer them," Shmi quietly intoned. Qui-Gon looked down at her with a curious expression, eyes flitting over her carefully composed face. Her features were worn in a semblance of calm, but her eyes were sad and troubled. "They used to pretend they were Jedi, running around having their own little adventures. It was what they dreamed of doing. Helping people. Making a change in the galaxy…"

"Your daughter would have made a fantastic Jedi," Qui-Gon mentioned, clasping his hands in front of his poncho clad torso. Both adults turned their attention to the mentioned girl, who was kneeling beside the Podracer, working on removing one of the side panels. "She has quite a talent for placating; I've witnessed her do so a handful of times today." Shmi smiled fondly, a gentle laugh rising from her throat.

"She always has been; she's gotten Anakin out of trouble more times than I can count. Both of them are so alike and yet so different… Anakin has more of a temper than Elara, but he's a good boy. Always so thoughtful and kind… both of them… If there is anything you can do for them–– _anything_ ––I would be forever grateful if you would do it." Shmi looked up to Qui-Gon with a hopeful look on her face, brow crinkled and lips drawn together tightly. There was a slight desperation in her voice, in her expression. When she said anything she truly did mean anything. Carefully considering her plea, Qui-Gon slowly nodded; besides, if what he now suspected was true, he _would_ do everything in his power to ensure them a better future.

Elara crouched down by an open panel on the side of one of the energy binders, eyes narrowed as she carefully ripped out some of the faulty wiring. There was a slight sparking and she squinted her eyes to shield them. Her knees dug into the hot, sandy ground, though she was so used to the sensation it hardly bothered her. Beside her C-3PO jumped and shuffled a step back, murmuring an 'oh my.' She smirked and glanced up at the protocol droid, who was staring down at the pile of wires; if a droid could blanch, she was sure that C-3PO would have done just that. She reached into one of her pockets, extracted new wires, and began to work on installing them.

"Relax, Threepio. I like you far too much to ever rip out any of your circuitry," she said fondly, smiling up into the sun. C-3PO had been a project of hers and Anakin's for quite some time. He was meant to aid their mother around the house whilst they were working, but they'd grown rather fond of him in the time that they'd pieced him together. He was still missing his coverings, leaving him 'naked' with all his wires and gears exposed. The droid righted himself proudly, making a pleased sound at her compliment. Her tone became more playful as she looked back to the racer. "You should stay on my good side, though. I _am_ one of the ones who put you back together; I know your inner workings pretty damn well."

R2-D2 chirped and beeped, waddling from side to side in amusement. Elara grinned and placed one of the unplugged wires between her teeth so she could work on the panel without obstruction. The protocol droid gasped and reached down to harshly smack the astromech droid with one of his hands.

"How dare you insinuate that Mistress Elara would do such a thing!" C-3PO admonished. The other droid beeped again, dome swiveling around so his eye lense could stare up at C-3PO. "You are quite a troublesome little thing, aren't you?"

"He's only joking," Elara defended lightly, removing the wire from her teeth with oil stained hands. R2-D2 rolled forward and extended a utility arm in hopes of helping. "Oh! Thank you, Artoo." She let the droid clamp the green colored wire between two little prongs and went back to fiddling around inside the panel. The young woman flinched when the skin on the back of her hand brushed against some serrated metal; she felt her skin sting at the newly gained abrasion.

"I don't wish to distract you from your work, Mistress Elara, but I would like to pose a question. Who will be flying this contraption?" C-3PO inquired, head cocking to the side. Sitting back on her heels and taking the wire from R2-D2, Elara sighed and looked to where Anakin was working. She stared at the back of his blonde head felt unease start to grow in her stomach. There was a fifty-fifty chance that Anakin would end up being the one flying the Podracer. Like Shmi, it killed Elara a little more every time Anakin flew in one of the races. He loved it yes, but the danger of it all set her on edge, leaving her pacing in the stands.

"It all depends on Watto. Whoever he chooses will be the pilot. I'd rather it be me because I'm older, and just that little bit more experienced, but he could choose Anakin over me very easily. There are advantages to having smaller pilots in these sorts of races…" Elara explained, curling the green wire around her fingers. Her brother twisted around in the pilot's seat and leaned over the back of it, fixing his sibling with a smug look.

"It'll be me––I'm better than you, anyways, you admitted it earlier," Anakin pointed out, his tone matching his expression. Elara's expression turned sour and she jabbed a finger in his direction.

"Only by a little bit," she retorted, feeling a gross swell of pride. Anakin shoved his tongue out of his mouth in a childish gesture, which Elara was quick to return before she fitted the last wire into its correct spot. Just as she and R2-D2 started to put the panel back into place, a bunch of Anakin's friends came running forward. They all remarked about how he was going to lose the race because the Podracer hadn't ever been flown before. Elara glared at them from her spot by the energy binders, resisting the urge to make a couple of biting remarks at the young children. Uninterested, the children eventually left and Qui-Gon stepped forward to offer Anakin a power charge to help get the Podracer started. Much to everyone's great joy, the racer started up and slowly began to rise off the ground. Anakin shouted, over the noise,

"It's working! _It's working!_ "

Elara leapt forward and hugged C-3PO, who stumbled back a couple steps and held his arms askew in contemplation of what to do. But she pulled away too fast for him to react, anyways. Her braid flew to rest over her shoulder as she whipped around in a victorious circle. She clamped both hands over her excited grin, bouncing up and down on her toes; it was the happiest she had felt in a very long time. Elara and Anakin had worked on the Podracer for so long that to finally see it up and running made her want to squeal with joy. Instead of bouncing around like an idiot, though, she leapt forward, hopped onto the racer, just behind the pilot seat and her brother, and leaned forward to start doing system checks. All the while, Qui-Gon watched, head contemplatively tilted to the side, and Shmi looked on with a sad smile.

That evening, Anakin, Elara, and Qui-Gon sat outside on the porch rail just in front of the Skywalker's hovel. The desert was dark but the buildings were lit warmly from within. The air had cooled, but it was still heavy with warmth; in response, Elara had rolled the sleeves of her increasingly more threadbare tunic to her elbows. She had her arms wound around Anakin's midsection, holding him back against her chest as Qui-Gon attended to a scrape on the boy's arm. Both the Skywalkers had their heads tilted back, staring up at the starry sky above them.

"There are so many!" Anakin remarked in awe. "Do they all have a system of planets?" With a parental smile, Qui-Gon bobbed his head and dabbed an antiseptic soaked rag across the abrasion on Anakin's arm.

"Most of them," replied the wise older man.

"Has anyone been to them all?"

Qui-Gon chuckled and took his own look up into the sky, which Elara bet he'd flown through dozens of times before, what with being a Jedi. They were always on missions to keep the peace, to keep training; it seemed like a fantastic life to live. "Not likely."

"I wanna be the first one to see them all!" Anakin proclaimed, lowering his head to grin at the Jedi Master. Elara chuckled and rest her chin atop her brother's head. She sighed and rocked her brother from side-to-side gently, smiling wistfully at something over Qui-Gon's shoulders. She was smiling at nothing, in fact, imagining worlds that she'd dreamed of.

"I don't care if I see them all… I just want to see an ocean… a forest…" Elara murmured. Her eyes came back into focus after a long, quiet moment, ducking her head to kiss the crown of Anakin's head. She laughed and squeezed the boy in her arms. "Though, seeing them all wouldn't be terrible."

When Anakin was distractedly leaning his head back to stare up at the sky, he suddenly flinched and jerked his arm backwards. "Ow!" he exclaimed. Elara looked down at him in confusion just as their mother called for them to come back inside.

"There," Qui-Gon said, running the cloth over the scrape one last time, "good as new." He scraped some of the blood from the rag onto a small chip, which he then held in his palm. Anakin's brows pulled together as he slipped from Elara's arms and cocked his head to the side. The Jedi held out his hand, waiting for Elara to place her own into his. "You have a tendency for getting hurt, don't you?" He was chuckling as the elder Skywalker offered her hand, letting him briefly dab at the scrape she'd earned from working on the Podracer. He then repeated the process of dabbing some of the blood onto a comlink chip.

"What are you doing?" Elara asked, slipping off the banister. Qui-Gon smiled at them softly and let out a friendly chuckle.

"I'm checking your blood for infection." Elara's eyes narrowed suspiciously, lips pursing as she eyed the comlink in his hand. "Go on, get some rest. You two have a big day tomorrow." He gently tapped Elara on the arm, ushering the two inside. Both left without an argument, but Elara threw a glance at him over her shoulder as they disappeared into their home.

Qui-Gon waited till they were out of view to raise the comlink to his lips. He was left in the sliver of light from the Skywalker household, his back to the darkness of the desert. "Obi-Wan?" he asked quietly.

" _Yes, Master?_ " came the formal, accented reply.

"I need an analysis of the blood samples I'm sending you."

" _Wait a minute_." There was a pause on Obi-Wan's end.

"I need a midi-chlorian count," Qui-Gon specified. He folded one arm over his stomach, and braced one leg against the stone porch rail. He first inserted the chip with Anakin's blood, paused, extracted it, and did the same with Elara's. There was another pause on the other end of the link, and when the Padawan next spoke, he sounded surprised.

" _The readings are off the chart. Both samples are at, or near, twenty-thousand or more! Even Master Yoda doesn't have a midi-chlorian count that high,_ " Obi-Wan observed. Qui-Gon's head bobbed in a slight nod only meant for himself. His gaze became unfocused as he spoke again.

"No Jedi has."

" _What does that mean?_ "

"I'm not sure…" Qui-Gon admitted, keeping his suspicions to himself for the time being. When his raised his eyes to the doorway, he spotted Shmi, who had, undoubtedly, been listening in on his conversation. Once their gazes met, she moved away, staring down at her feet as she left. Qui-Gon slowly lowered the comlink and drifted into his own thoughts, eyes downcast. Shmi had urged him to do anything that would help her children; an idea rose to mind, now that he had confirmed their sensitivity to the Force. Now that he knew the level of midi-chlorians in their system. All he needed to do was make one more deal with Watto.

OOOO

Just before the race on Boonta Eve had begun, Qui-Gon had made his second deal with Watto. Using die often used in gambling, the Jedi had managed to will the Force to win the roll––if Anakin or Elara won the race, they would both be free. Unfortunately, the Toydarian refused to allow the same treatment for their mother. If they were freed, their mother would remain a slave. Much to her heartache, Watto decided that Anakin would be best to fly the racer; claimed that he was smaller and lighter-weight and he would have better chances at winning. Not that he was betting on them, anyway. The race had been a mess of crashing pods, foul play on Sebulba's part, and Anakin narrowly missing a number of disasters. But, much to everyone's utter joy, excitement, and shock, the youngest Skywalker had won. He won the entire race, and, unknowingly, had won his and his sister's freedom.

Qui-Gon, after taking the necessary parts to his ship, returned to take Anakin and Elara to sell their Podracer. The eldest of the siblings had felt rather melancholic about selling it, having worked so hard on it for so many years. But a kind-faced man had paid them well for it, excitedly running his hands over the dusty surface of the pilot's seat. They kept friendly conversation with the Jedi Master as they returned home, the man giving them the bag of coins that had been used to buy the racer. Excitedly, Anakin dashed into the house, presenting his mother with the bag of money.

"Mom, we sold the pod! Look at all the money we have!" Anakin exclaimed, giving their mother the money. She gasped and grinned at her children, looking away from what she'd been working on.

"Oh, my goodness! That's so wonderful you two!"

Qui-Gon, who stood behind the siblings, calmly announced, "And they have been freed."

Elara spun around on wobbly feet, feeling light-headed and breathless. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, gaping at the Jedi in awe. Her lack of breathing was suddenly made up for as she inhaled sharply and quickly; it was like she'd been drawn into her most coveted dream. "W-What?" she exhaled, extending a questioning and trembling hand.

"What!?" Anakin's reaction had been more excitable, a grin spreading across his youthful face. Elara stared intently at Qui-Gon's face, watching as a bright smile appeared on his aging face. Just that look alone made her break into a smile, joyful tears springing to her already sparkling blue eyes. A hand flew to her mouth as she waited for a verbal confirmation.

"You two are no longer slaves," Qui-Gon reiterated kindly. As Anakin spun around to ask their mother if she'd heard what the Jedi said, Elara stuttered a step towards the man before her. Before she could stop herself, she launched herself at him, curling her arms around his neck. He made a surprised sound that quickly morphed into a chuckle, kindly rubbing her back; tears rolled off her cheeks and wetted his poncho.

"Thank you… whatever you did… _thank you_ …" Elara whispered.

"Now you two can make your dreams come true. You're free," Shmi said, happiness in her tone. Elara slipped away from Qui-Gon, rubbing tears off her cheeks and chin. Her mother looked up at Qui-Gon, brows raising. "Will you take them with you? Are they to become Jedi?"

Qui-Gon crossed his arms, hiding his hands in the sleeves of his poncho. "Yes. Our meeting was not a coincidence. Nothing happens by accident."

" _We_ get to come with you in your _starship?_ " Anakin stressed in excitement. Qui-Gon crouched down to be at Anakin's height level, glancing up at Elara every now and again as he spoke.

"Anakin… Elara… training to be a Jedi is not an easy challenge. And even if you do succeed, it's a hard life," Qui-Gon solemnly informed. Anakin's head dropped to the side in a movement of childish indolence.

"But I wanna go! It's what I've always dreamed of doing! What Elara's dreamed of doing!" He spun around and faced their mother. "Can we go, mom?" Elara slowly turned her back on Qui-Gon, facing the woman who had raised her with tearful eyes. Shmi reached out a hand.

"Anakin." He slipped his small hand into hers. Shmi extended her other hand. "Elara." She grabbed her hand tightly, cradling it between both of hers. "This path has been placed in front of you two. The choice is yours alone."

"I wanna do it," Anakin adamantly informed after a short pause. Elara nodded, not trusting her voice not to tremble and shake. She smiled brightly and nodded again, excitedly laughing at the prospect of a new life before her.

"Then pack your things; we haven't much time," informed Qui-Gon, rising back to his full height. Anakin immediately sped off down the hall, shouting excitedly. Elara's smile slipped off her face as Shmi rose and drew her daughter into her arms. She buried her face into her mother's shoulder, holding her tighter than she ever had before. Her brows furrowed and another flood of tears raced to meet her eyes.

"What about Mom?" Anakin asked from the adjacent room. "Is she free too?" Elara tightened her arms around her mother, already knowing the answer. She had since the moment Qui-Gon had specified that _two_ of them had been freed. Tears escaped the corners of her eyes and she sniffed noisily, biting back a whimper.

"I tried to free your mother, Ani, but Watto wouldn't have it." The tone of Qui-Gon's voice had been sad and regretful.

"You're coming with us, aren't you, Mom?"

"Children, my place is _here_. My future is _here_." Shmi drew away, holding Elara at arm's length. Her hands slowly slipped from her daughter's arms as, with a sad smile, she said, "It is time for you two to let go." Elara raised her chin and sniffed, lifting a hand to rub the wetness off her cheeks. Shmi sat herself back down and took Anakin's hands; he pouted and, if he had been younger, he might have stomped his foot.

"I don't _want_ things to change…" Anakin said, tears gathering in his blue eyes. Shmi smiled and reached out to smooth out his soft blonde hair. Elara's lips twitched at the corners and she knew precisely what their mother was about to say. It was a saying commonly said in their family, often when they were facing difficult times. "But you can't stop the change anymore than you can stop the suns from setting." She stroked Anakin's face and then held out her hand for Elara to take. She drew both of her children into her arms, quietly murmuring, "Oh, I love you…" The family embraced for a prolonged moment of melancholic silence. She then drew back and urged them to go pack their things.

There wasn't much to pack. A few pairs of ragged clothing and some meager keepsakes that had been collected over the years. Elara put her stuff into a small pack that she slung over her shoulder. She took a step back and stood in the center of her room, which she had called her own for so long. She remembered playing with baby Anakin on the floor, laying flat on the threadbare rug as he crawled and toddled around. A fond and sad smile rose to her lips as she moved her braid over her shoulder, smoothing her fingers along the thick plait. It was overwhelming to believe that, in mere moments, she would begin a new life. Everything she had been through would be left behind. A prospectless future would be left, quite literally, in the dust of Tatooine's deserts. The future stood before her, now, involved diving into the world of Jedi. A life that she hadn't dreamed of having since she was a very young child. It made a giddiness spring to being in her stomach, one that equalled the level of sadness at leaving Shmi behind.

"You're going to have a much better life," said her mother, who had stepped into the room behind her. Elara turned around and smiled, eyes directed down at their feet. Wetting her parched lips, the pretty young woman finally met Shmi's gaze, mustering all of her bravery to do so. Shmi reached up and smoothed strands of dark blond hair behind Elara's ear, marveling at how beautiful her daughter had become. Her features were soft and her eyes were the color of the cloudless Tatooine sky. One of the only regrets Shmi had about letting her children go, was that she wouldn't get to see them fully grow into adults.

"I know… I just feel… guilty about leaving you here. You've done _so much_ for us, Mom. We can't just… leave you here, still enslaved, still… still…" Elara's mouth remained open, struggling to find eloquent words to express her guilt and concern. Shmi shook her head and stroked her daughter's soft cheek, which had been pinked by Tatooine's double suns.

"Then, once you've become a Jedi, return and do what it was that Qui-Gon has done. It's time you start worrying about your future––because you have one, now. A bright, brilliant, _adventurous_ future that I know you will love. That you will excel in. Don't worry about me, Elara, my sweet girl… I'll be fine," Shmi encouraged. She had a way of talking in a wondrously soft voice, one so filled with emotion and love that it always automatically made Elara smile. Elara wound her arms around her mother's neck, again burying her face into the crook of her neck, like she had done so many times as a little girl. "I love you, Elara."

"I love you, too, Mom… I'll see you again…"

After saying a final, heartfelt goodbye to their mother, Anakin and Elara started off with Qui-Gon. Only a quarter of the way down the street, Anakin stopped dead in his tracks. A moment later, Elara stopped, and then, finally, so did their Jedi escort. Anakin turned on his heel and ran back towards their mother, who stood right outside the door to their home. Sadly, Elara tilted her head to the side, watching the interaction from afar. She knew that if she were to join them, it would make leaving all the more hard. So she made herself stay rooted to the spot, watching as Anakin and Shmi shared some final parting words. A heavy hand fell to rest on her shoulder. Twisting her head around, she saw that Qui-Gon had stepped up just behind her, smiling down at her sympathetically. She turned her head to face forward again, watching as Anakin bravely turned away from Shmi and started back towards them with a determined look on his young face. Elara looped her arm around Anakin's shoulders as they followed Qui-Gon away, both of them dutifully keeping their gazes locked on the dusty, sunny horizon; for if they looked back, they may never look forward again.

The trio wove their way through Mos Espa's streets, ready to head towards the outskirts where Qui-Gon's ship was waiting. Elara found herself taking mental snapshots of places she recognized, lingering on each small memory that lingered in the dusty corners. Not every part of their life had been particularly terrible; it _had_ had its moments. There was no conversation as they walked, the Jedi allowing them their final moments to say silent farewells to their home. Elara thought she heard a strange sound following them, at one point, and initially passed it off as the sound of construction. But it persisted, getting closer and closer. Just as she was about to look over her shoulder Qui-Gon spun around, lightsaber ignited; he slashed an arc through the air, striking down a droid that had been, presumably, following them. The green blade disappeared as the Skywalkers gaped down at the droid's smoldering remains.

"What is it?" Anakin asked.

"A probe droid," Qui-Gon said, kneeling down beside it. "Very unusual… not like anything I've seen before." Elara felt a strange, disheartening pull in her stomach, strong enough to make her place her hand just beneath her ribcage. She shared a look with Qui-Gon––he'd felt it too. A Force disturbance. The Jedi rose to his feet and nodded for them to keep moving. "Come on." And with that, they started to run.

They ran exhaustively through the sandy dunes of Tatooine, rushing towards the ship that waited to take them off planet. Elara didn't know what they were running from, but she knew that, whatever it was, was not good. A foreboding feeling of dread had washed through her body as they ran as fast as they could, the sun's beating down on their heads and the sand pulling at their feet to slow them down. Her throat burned with thirst and her lungs ached from the amount of hot, dry air that had been constantly exiting and entering them. When Anakin had started to lag behind, Elara swung him up onto her back, holding his knees tightly to her sides as she ran. Eventually the most beautiful ship that she'd ever seen in her life came into view. It was chrome and shiny, its exterior glinting in the sunlight. Qui-Gon glanced back at them and his step faltered, eyes fixed on something just behind the two siblings.

"Elara, Anakin, drop!" he shouted. Elara immediately threw herself to the ground, taking Anakin down with her. Their bodies hit the hot sand solidly, knocking the air out of their lungs. A speeder bike zoomed over their heads. Elara raised her head, feeling sand seep into the folds of her clothes; off the speeder flipped a humanoid in black robes, an ignited red lightsaber flashing through the air. Qui-Gon's green blade clashed against the other saber, having immediately thrown himself into battle. "Go! Tell them to take off!"

Elara struggled to get to her feet, pulling Anakin into her arms as she stared, wide-eyed, at Qui-Gon's adversary. She caught glimpses of his face––red and black with eyes the color of magma. With her younger brother clinging to her neck, Elara pushed herself into a sprint, eyes locked on the Nubian's ramp. The minute her foot touched the metal, she shouted,

" _Take off!_ " Once they were inside the ship, Anakin was set on her feet, and Elara panted heavily, looking around for any sign of the crew. Padmé, accompanied with a man in an important looking uniform, appeared from a room down the corridor. "Qui-Gon's in trouble––he says we need to take off!"

"Who are you?" the man asked, brow crinkled critically. Elara gasped in a breath of air and bent at the waist, trying to slow her breathing. Padmé urgently placed a hand on the man's arm and gave a diplomatic nod.

"I can vouch for them; they're friends."

Elara and Anakin followed both Padmé and the man, whom had been hurriedly introduced as Captain Panaka, to the cockpit. Elara had finally managed to get her breath back to normal by the time the doors slid open.

"Qui-Gon is in trouble!" Panaka announced. A young man, dressed in Jedi robes, spared them all a quick look before leaning down to look through the ship's front window. He seated himself beside the current pilot, pointing to where he'd spotted Qui-Gon.

"Over there; fly low!" the young man ordered. The ship gracefully and smoothly rose into the air and was steered towards Qui-Gon and his duel. Elara pointed at one of the monitors on the control panel, which had registered that all of the landing gear had been safely stowed and that the ramp had sealed itself.

"Keep the ramp down!" she urgently ordered. The pilot quickly tapped a button and the monitor registered the ramp had dropped again. They watched as Qui-Gon spun away from the red lightsaber wielding humanoid, leaping into the air and, hopefully, onto the ramp. The minute that Qui-Gon was out of their sight, three bodies rushed towards the door. The man in Jedi robes was through it first, followed closely by Elara and then Anakin.

The trio found their way to Qui-Gon, who was collapsed on the ground, face and clothes damp with sweat. The aging Jedi sat up just as they all fell to their knees at the man's side. Elara's knees and feet were week already, and they were thankful for the rest that she was granting them. She was kneeling beside the second, unnamed Jedi, who was staring at Qui-Gon with intent concern.

"Are you alright?" Anakin asked. The blonde Jedi beside Elara cast a look at the two beside him as though suddenly and finally registering that they were there.

"I think so," Qui-Gon replied, bracing his hands flat against the shiny floor.

"What was it?" asked the blonde young man.

"I'm not sure. But it was well-trained in the Jedi arts. My guess is, it was after the Queen."

"Is there anything we can do about it?" Elara asked, sinking back on her heels, hands resting in her lap. From the corner of her eye, she saw the second Jedi cast her a look, brows tugging together. Qui-Gon huffed a sigh, looked at his three companions and gave a simple reply.

"We will be patient." He then gestured between Anakin. "Anakin Skywalker," he gestured to Elara, "Elara Skywalker," his hand swept towards the other man in Jedi robes, "meet Obi-Wan Kenobi." Anakin and Obi-Wan shook hands, the young boy staring up at the man wide wide blue eyes. Obi-Wan proffered a small smile as he shook the boy's small hand. Anakin returned the shake excitedly.

"Hi! You're a Jedi, too? Pleased to meet you!" he replied enthusiastically. Obi-Wan smiled towards Qui-Gon, both of them amused by his enthusiasm. The Jedi Master flicked his gaze towards the young woman, brows raising.

Turning to his left, Obi-Wan came to face Elara, their knees very nearly touching. Elara stared at him with an unwavering gaze, and was the first to offer her hand for a handshake. Not breaking eye contact, he shook the sleeve of his robe back from his hand and slipped it into her own. The moment their skin touched, however, a surge of warmth flooded Elara's body. It was so sudden and surprising, she inhaled sharply and her fingers instinctively tightened around Obi-Wan's. His head tilted to the side a fraction and his lips twitched. Their handshake was much slower than the one Obi-Wan and Anakin had shared. It was pensive almost.

"Hello," Elara said softly, but clearly. "I'm Elara Skywalker." Obi-Wan inclined his head to her, still not breaking eye contact.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi," he spoke equally as gently as she had. His voice held a very particular lilt that Elara had never heard before. Her lips pulled up into a smile as their handshake broke, her hand falling to rest in her lap. Obi-Wan's lips quirked to the side in a smirk, one that was infuriatingly charming. In response, one of her brows rose, a silent conversation passing between the two. Obi-Wan returned his attentions to his Master and Elara looked back down at her hand; she wondered if, perhaps, he had felt that surge of warmth. But she knew one thing for sure––if Obi-Wan Kenobi smirked like that all the time, there might be a problem.

 _ **Afterword:**_ _**And there's chapter two! I'm having so much fun writing all of this up; the stuff on Tatooine is a bit rushed, though, so I apologize. But I'm also very thrilled all of you have been enjoying it so far!**_

 _ **Review Replies**_

 **Xx High By The Beach xX:** _I'm very glad you enjoyed the first chapter; and I hope you enjoyed the second one just as much. Thanks again!_

 **SoleFaith:** _I hope that you're still enjoying the story so far! I hope that you stick around to see where I take it; thanks again!_

 **TheNewBrokenEeb:** _I can't wait for you to read what I've got planned. I've got a lot in store for Elara, Obi-Wan, and Anakin! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **The Redshirt who Lived:** _I'm very glad that you gave the story a chance and have enjoyed it so far. I always love doing research so I can get the little details right; it not only makes everything seem more realistic, but it also gives a deeper insight into the actual films. And little fun facts to throw around with your friends :) I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **masterdude94:** _Elara is ten years older than Anakin, so she's about nineteen or twenty, depending on how old you think he is. I'm extremely flattered that you think the story is very good so far! I hope you stick around to read more; thanks again!  
_ **Velk:** _I'm glad that you've enjoyed the story thus far! I hope that you'll continue to read; thanks again!  
_ **ShappycowMcSkittles:** _I hope that you stick around to read and find out where this is all heading :) Thanks again; I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!_

 _ **And thank you to those that have read/added this story to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!**_

 _ **That's all for now, but I hope to be back with chapter three soon! We'll get some Elara/Obi-Wan bonding time. Again, I thank you all for taking the time to stop in and read! You all rock!  
~Mary**_


	3. The Future's Uncertainty

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize._

 _ **Foreword: I changed Emma's name to Elara, as I think it fits the universe better; just a heads-up so y'all don't get confused!**_

3\. The Future's Uncertainty

Space was beautiful, Elara had decided. She'd pressed herself close to the windows in the small mess hall, forehead pressed against the cool glass as they sped past stars and planets alike. Some of the light that stars and planets gave off were tinged with color, and some were just shining specks in the black expanse that stretched on infinitely around her. Each planet had a name, she realized with awe as they continuously passed them by. Elara had always known that the universe was enormous. But to finally be out in it was another feeling entirely. It made her feel so small and insignificant, and yet so incredibly blessed to be living in such a beautiful place. The Tatooine native wanted to know the name of every planet and star system, wanted to memorize star maps so that, one day, she could visit new planets whenever she would be able to do so. A smile pulled across Elara's lips, imagining a planet completely covered in lush foliage, one without a pit of sand to be seen.

"Hello there," said a warm voice. Lurching away from the window, Elara spun on her heel and found she was no longer alone. Obi-Wan stood not but a few feet off, hands clasped behind his back. The charming smirk from earlier had crept its way onto his face. "Enjoying the view, are we?" Both of Elara's brows arched, momentarily unsure of what he was referring to. His eyes flickered towards the window and then, strangely enough, to her forehead. His smirk grew amused. She flung her hand up to her forehead, suddenly realizing that she must have had a bright red mark from where she had been leaning against the glass. Her skin was cold in that spot.

"I've never seen space before," she said. Turning to look over her shoulder, she stared at the stars that they streaked past. "It's beautiful."

"Indeed it is." Returning her gaze to the other occupant of the room, Elara noticed that Obi-Wan's smirk had turned into a very small, close-lipped smile. Elara allowed herself to fully take in the young man who stood just opposite herself. Her initial reaction had been to immediately think that he was incredibly attractive––even with the strange haircut. His red-blonde hair had been cut short, save for a small ponytail at the back of his head, and a long braid that sat comfortably behind his right ear. And long meant that the end of it brushed the bottom of his ribcage. His lips––which had been smirking the two times they'd encountered each other––were set under a straight nose, and his jawline was sharp and strong.

Elara refocused her gaze on his eyes, which were a gentle blue, and was surprised to find that they had just flickered back up from what might have been her feet; she had the strangest feeling that he might have taken a moment to give her a once-over, just as she had done to him. When their eyes met, he raised both brows silently. One of her own raised, a silent conversation again engaged. She raised her bandaged hand and pointed at him, seating herself at one of the small tables, atop which her scarf was piled.

"You're a Jedi, right?" she asked. Obi-Wan chuckled and moved to join her at the table, casually leaning an elbow atop it. The smirk returned, causing one of his cheeks to lift.

"Padawan Learner, actually. Meaning that I am training to become a Jedi Knight," Obi-Wan clarified. His accent was so gentle and new to Elara that she found herself wanting to keep him talking, just so she could continue to hear it. "Qui-Gon is my Master, and he has taught me much about the Force."

Elara rested her chin atop a curled fist, her head listening to the side as she considered the Padawan in front of her. Qui-Gon was his teacher. That must have been why he'd so quickly rushed to his aid earlier. He had been concerned, she knew it, but he'd done quite a fantastic job at hiding any evidence of it.

"It must be exciting, living as a Jedi," she commented. Her thoughts drifted to the prospect of her life becoming like his. Traveling to distant planets, experiencing new cultures, and having adventures all the while. The Padawan fixed her with a serious look, straightening up in his seat.

"The life of a Jedi is not an easy one. We do not covet adventure, we do not seek it out. We are supposed to––"

"Bring balance, order, and the Force to the galaxy, I know," Elara finished with a gentle smile. Her eyes glimmered, savoring the mildly surprised look on the Padawan's face. She decided not to mention that she and Anakin had pretended to be Jedi as children, running around the dusty slave hovels having their own adventures. The memory made her smile grow. Obi-Wan stared at her for a quiet moment before he reached up to rub at his chin, gaze sliding elsewhere. "Qui-Gon tells me that… he is going to try and rally for you and your brother to be trained."

Elara nodded, reaching up to tuck strands of her hair behind her ear. "From what I've come to understand, yes, that is true." Obi-Wan pursed his lips and seemed to consider her more critically than he had before. It was a calculating gaze that made his blue eyes become steely. His fingers continued to draw themselves along his jaw and chin, as though contemplating some serious matter. "Is there something wrong in him doing that?"

"Well… To put it simply… you're both too old. Most Padawans are trained from the time they are _very_ young; even your brother Anakin is considered too old, and he can't be older than, what, nine? And _you_ …" Obi-Wan swept and hand towards her, brows arched, eyes wide, and lips parted. Elara stared at him incredulously, a nearly insulted expression on her face. The Padawan shook his head and let his hand fall, the proper words clearly escaping him.

"I suppose I'd be considered ancient, wouldn't I?" she deadpanned, expression falling equally as flat. Obi-Wan squashed his lips together and tilted his head to the side as though to say 'well…' Elara scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. Her initial impression of him––which had been rather favorable––was starting to sour some. The urge for her to stubbornly cross her arms over her chest was strong, but she fought the urge by clenching her fingers into fists. "Well, you can't be much older than I am, can you?"

Obi-Wan snorted soundlessly and arched both brows, placing a hand in the middle of his chest. "I was trained to become a Jedi from the time I was six months old. It's… unheard of to have anyone as old as yourself _start_ their training." Elara pursed her lips and clenched her teeth together, feeling them squeak against each other as her molars shifted atop each other. The Jedi Apprentice suddenly righted, his expression sobering. Elara figured that something must have occurred to him; it was almost as though a wave had physically washed over him. He slid a placating hand through the air, ducking his chin in a manner that had him staring at the Tatooine native from under his lashes. If Elara hadn't been so irked, she might have stared.

"I didn't mean to insult you."

"You didn't insult me," she deadpanned.

"Your emotions are poorly guarded. In fact, they're so strong they're permeating the air as though you were wearing perfume," Obi-Wan informed smartly. His gaze was no longer steely, but his expression had become carefully composed; each of his features were specifically arranged to convey nothing beside what she was meant to see. "Again, I apologize."

"There's a saying my former slave master used to say––if the damage has already been done, there's no use trying to fix it."

Obi-Wan's head whipped upwards, his brows crunching together severely at something she had said. His hand fell limply into his lap, resting atop layers of white and brown fabric. "Slave master?" Elara licked her dry lips and turned her gaze elsewhere; anywhere than at the handsome Padawan. The surprise that had laced his voice made her stomach tighten unpleasantly. She supposed this was how Anakin felt when Padmé had incredulously inquired about their slavery. A well of what felt like shame grew in her stomach, and she couldn't bring herself to look at the young man seated across from her.

"It's nothing––it's… the past. Over and done with," Elara dismissed with the wave of her hand.

The room became uncomfortably quiet, and the weight of the Padawan's words settled on Elara's shoulders. Gone were the happy memories of running around with pieces of scrap metal to act as lightsabers. The thoughts of potential adventures fled as she realized that what had been said could very well be true. Her future suddenly seemed to be on shaky ground. As did Anakin's. A twisting feeling in her gut made her lips pull into a frown. Elara felt almost ill at the thought that Anakin could have his dream ripped out from under him; she was older, more mature––she could handle that. But he was still so young, and the last thing she wanted was for him to gain his freedom only to have his dreams torn away. Suddenly feeling very disheartened, Elara rose to her feet and tugged at the bottom of her tunic.

"I think I might go find Anakin…" Elara nodded to Obi-Wan, eyes briefly flickering over his form. "It was… a pleasure to talk with you…" She struggled to find the proper way to address him. 'Obi-Wan' seemed too personal, he didn't have the title of 'Master,' and 'Mister Kenobi' just didn't seem fitting. Instead of prolonging her exit, she nodded to him again and left the room silently.

Elara slipped herself into a nook not too far down the main corridor, leaning her head back against the cold metal. A shiver rolled down her spine and, for the first time since stepping onto the ship, she realized she was actually quite cold. The difference in temperature between Tatooine and the ship––space––was drastic; it was a kind of perpetual cold that she had never experienced before in her life. Her awestruck mood from earlier had fled completely, and now she just felt… tired. Her muscles ached from all the running. Her eyes itched from the sand that had flown directly into them whilst they'd run. The range of emotions that she had experienced left her emotionally drained. Obi-Wan's words played back in her mind. If there was anything in her power that she could do to ensure Anakin's fate, she would do it. Elara would be perfectly content to find her own way in life; but if her brother could live his dream, she would make sure that it would happen. From just around the corner, she heard a familiar voice murmur,

"It's very cold." It was Anakin. She turned around and was about to sweep to her brother's aid when another voice replied.

"You and your sister come from a warm planet, Ani. Space is cold," Padmé replied. Her tone was comforting and sympathetic. Elara's forehead listed forward and fell to rest against the wall, finding herself just content to listen. Her eyes fell shut and a hand rose to brace itself against the wall.

"You seem sad."

"The Queen is worried. Her people are suffering, dying." The tone of her voice made it seem as though she was speaking of her own worries, not the ones of the Queen of Naboo. Though, she supposed, if Padmé was one of the Queen's handmaidens, those concerns could very well be shared.

"I made this for you," Anakin suddenly said, changing the subject all together. "So you'd remember. I carved it out of a japor snippet." Elara's brows tugged together, vaguely recalling watching Anakin carve a small piece of the ivory wood the night before. "It will bring you good fortune."

"It's beautiful!" admired Padmé, sounding genuinely pleased. "But I don't need this to remember you by. Many things will change when we get to the Capital, Ani, but my caring for you will remain." The corner of Elara's mouth twitched upwards briefly, eyes remaining closed.

"Eavesdropping, are we?" a voice whispered just over the young woman's shoulder. A gasp flew past her lips and Elara spun around, pressing her back against the wall. Just behind her was none other than Obi-Wan, smirking at her in amusement, bent at the waist slightly. Surely, he had leaned over to whisper in her ear. Both his brows rose and his smirk grew when she fixed him with a dirty look. "Some might find this suspicious."

"Want to know what else is suspicious? Sneaking up behind someone without warning," Elara whispered back. There was a bite in her tone, clearly unamused at the Padawan's sudden arrival. Obi-Wan inclined his head in an apologetic gesture, but his smirking expression read as anything but. Before, when he had attempted to make atonements for insulting her, he'd seemed genuine enough. This time, however, Elara wanted to say that he was genuinely _amused_ at her reaction. Elara attempted to keep herself composed. She mimicked the look he'd given her earlier, keeping her face decidedly stoic. "Do you make it habit to approach your acquaintances unannounced?"

"Do you make a habit of listening in on your brother's conversations?" The two stared at each other silently. Once it was clear that someone was going to have to be the bigger person and break the silence, Obi-Wan raised his right hand, in which was clenched a folded up swath of off-white fabric, that was dotted with holes and tears. "I came to return this." Elara removed her scarf from his hand and dropped her gaze. Part of her was embarrassed that the fabric was so beaten up, but what was to be expected of something out of a slave's wardrobe? She pinched the hem and let it unfurl, momentarily realizing that Obi-Wan had taken the time to fold the scarf before delivering it to her. She tightly hugged the thin fabric around her torso, hoping it might fight off some of the chill. It didn't.

"Thank you." She turned her head so the Padawan was staring at her profile, hugging her arms to herself when a shiver ran through her body. In reference to his earlier question, she glanced back towards him and gave a shake of her head. "And, no, I don't. I just… I'm almost always around when he gets into trouble… If I can prevent him from falling into it, I do."

Obi-Wan folded his arms over his chest in a practiced and specific moment, tucking one hand between his arm and ribcage, and letting the other rest firmly on the opposite bicep. "If you two were to become Jedi, you would have to allow him to fight his own battles. All of them. You would each be given a different Master to train under and it would be very likely you'd not see each other for years at a time. Anakin would become his own person, _you_ would become your own person. You would have to let go of being his protector."

"I'm fully aware that I won't be able to fight his battles his entire life, and I don't intend to. I never did. Besides, everything you just told me is circumstantial. It would only become relevant _if_ we were to become Jedi. It's like you said, we're too old, apparently," pointed out Elara. She pulled at the fabric wrapped around her torso, fairly sure she felt part of it rip. She watched Obi-Wan's lips purse in lack of response. She'd expertly used his own words to feed her defense, and she had done it well; she'd spoken evenly, calmly. Like a Jedi would. The Padawan inclined his head to her, avoiding eye-contact in a move that she already figured was uncharacteristic for him.

"I… feel as though I should, again, apologize for so bluntly informing you of such a rule," Obi-Wan apologized, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve. Elara felt a slight tremor in the air around her, so slight that it almost felt like a shiver rolling across her back. Something seemed to whisper to her, informing her of a certain emotion that seemed to flood the air briefly. Her brows pulled together and she tilted her head to the side, considering the man before her.

"No," she stated simply. Obi-Wan raised his head, brows arching upwards.

"Sorry?"

"You don't feel sorry for informing me of that information. Therefore, you shouldn't apologize; you're just lying, otherwise," Elara informed, her tone soft as though she was contemplating something.

Obi-Wan gaped at her, mouth ajar and brows creased. Her eyes roamed over Obi-Wan from head to toe, suddenly feeling the emotion in the air retract itself. Just as the feeling in the air disappeared, the Padawan physically recomposed his face. Earlier he had said her emotions were poorly controlled; that he could sense them in the air as though it was perfume. Perhaps that was what she'd just felt––an emotional slip-up on Obi-Wan's part. Jedi were renowned for keeping their emotions in check, carefully considering them and the affects they had on themselves. But Obi-Wan was still a Padawan. He was still learning. With silence playing out between them, Elara realized that Padmé and Anakin had stopped talking, filling the corridor with increasingly uncomfortable silence.

"Excuse me," Elara murmured, starting to slip around the corner. She hadn't realized how close Obi-Wan had been standing; as she moved past him, her chest barely brushed against his, and her hand skimmed against the roughspun fabric of his robe. There was a slight buzz at the back of her skull, which made Elara believe that Obi-Wan had been watching her as she left. Tugging the scarf tighter around her torso, she cast a look over her shoulder and saw half of Obi-Wan's face disappear around the corner. Shaking her head, Elara found her way over to Anakin, who was tucked away in a corner with a blanket pulled up around his shoulders. Jar-Jar was awkwardly positioned in a nearby chair, snoring and shifting as he slept. Anakin tilted his blonde head backwards as she approached, sleepily blinking up at his sister. Elara smiled and crouched down in front of him, reaching out to sweep hair out of his eyes.

"Hey, kid," Anakin snorted sleepily at the word 'kid,' "How're you doing?" The boy shrugged his small shoulders, causing the blanket to partially slouch off him. He fixed the way the fabric sat and then shrugged a second time. Elara threaded her fingers through his hair again, head tilting to the side whilst she waited for him to speak.

"I'm cold… tired…" Anakin informed quietly. He then ducked his head, which allowed the hair Elara had smoothed out of his eyes to fall back into it. "I miss Mom."

Elara shifted forward so she could sit beside Anakin, reaching out to loop her arms around his small body. She kissed his temple and nodded. "I miss her, too, Ani…" He shifted in her arms so his head was resting against her chest. His eyes had started to droop shut, exhaustion from their busy day finally setting in. With a loving smile appearing on her face, Elara held him closer as he started to drift off. Anakin's blonde hair was repeatedly smoothed out by her fingers in slow, soothing strokes. It was like so many nights on Tatooine. She softly started to sing a song she had known since she was young. Shmi had sung it to Elara when she was young and, in turn, did the same for Anakin. Elara had long since grown out of being sung to sleep, but the melody always proved to lull Anakin into a peaceful rest.

Once the song had finished, Elara glanced down to find that Anakin had nodded off, and was sound asleep against her. Shifting carefully, she reclined back against the wall and shut her eyes, listening to the dull hum of the ship's engines. Her head listed forward so her cheek was pressed atop Anakin's head, the soft scent of his hair filling his nose. Exhaustion hit Elara like a Podracer slamming into the side of a canyon. Her arms tightened around her brother, the one familiar presence she had on the ship, and focused on the even pattern of his breathing. A shiver rippled through her body, and she hugged Anakin closer to herself, simultaneously trying to keep them both warm. Slowly, she started to drift off. She was only vaguely aware that she had become blanketed with warmth, which completely banished the cold and allowed her to drift off into a peaceful sleep.

OOOO

When Elara woke up, still snuggled into the corner with her brother. She smiled sleepily down at Anakin's blonde head, happy to see that he was still asleep. There was no indication as to how long they had been asleep, but no matter how long it had been, it had been greatly welcomed. Elara felt significantly more relaxed than she had been the previous evening, though her muscles were stiff and achey. When she shifted, she felt fabric pull across her body, as though she had been covered in a blanket. With confusion, Elara noticed that she was swathed in coarse––but warm––brown fabric. Removing her arms from around Anakin, she gently tugged the fabric off her body and fiddled around with it; it didn't take her long to find a sleeve and a hood. Holding it up by the shoulders, she recognized it as a Jedi robe. Dropping her arms and hugging the fabric to her chest, Elara creased her brows and tightened her hold on the robe. There were only two men the robe could possibly belong to; but, if Elara remembered correctly, their robes had differed in shades of brown––Obi-Wan's was a couple shades lighter than Qui-Gon's. The fabric in her hands was a significantly lighter shade, which led her to believe, quite firmly, that it was Obi-Wan's.

Elara dragged her fingers along the fabric and thought about the Padawan who wore it. She truly did not know what to make of the young man. He'd come off charming when they had first met, with the smirk, the eyes, and the voice… but there had been something in his blunt informance of the likelihood of her becoming a Jedi that had put her off some. There was almost a cockiness to Obi-Wan, she realized; something that would likely––hopefully––ware away with age, but that didn't help her now. Perhaps he was just incredibly self-confident and it came off as arrogance or smugness. Yet Elara was reminded of the fact he'd tracked her down to return her scarf and had, apparently, shucked his robe in order for her to keep warm. Those actions spoke of a kind man who went out of his way to help others, just as a good Jedi should. Thus was why Obi-Wan Kenobi proved to puzzle her so. Elara sighed gently and shifted the robe into the crook of one arm, reaching out to gently shake Anakin awake.

Anakin had made the stubborn decision to stay asleep, opposing his sister's nudges with weak little flails of his hand. She made the executive decision to leave him sleeping, cushioning his head against the wall with her balled-up scarf. She crept past Jar-Jar, who was still snoring, and made her way into the corridor. Just as she rounded her second corner, she nearly ran straight into Obi-Wan's chest. She immediately halted the step that would have sent her sailing straight into him, but flung a hand up to act as a bumper, in case he ran into _her_. He seemed to have a good hold on his reflexes, though, and stopped just as she had. The Padawan smiled gently and inclined his head in her direction. Just as Elara expected, his robe was absent, which left him only in his soft white garments.

"I was just about to come and wake you. We will be arriving on Coruscant shortly," Obi-Wan informed. Elara nodded her thanks and then lifted the garment she'd had draped over her bottom of it pooled on the floor, as she would have had to hold it as high as the top of Obi-Wan's head in order for the hem to barely even kiss the flooring.

"I believe this is yours; I found myself using it as a blanket this morning." Elara extended it towards him, her fingers curled tightly into the brown fabric. Obi-Wan accepted his robe and went about slipping it back onto his person. As he fixed the way the hood sat on his shoulders and back, he nodded at her for a second time, no trace of a smirk in sight.

"You were shivering."

"It was very considerate for you," Elara said, genuine appreciation clear in her tone. A smile crept up the corners of Obi-Wan's mouth at the compliment. The two stared at one another, unsure of where to steer the conversation; they had only just met, and their talks thus far had all ended on a tense or sour note. Elara realized, then, it was easy to get lost in the thoughtful blue of the Padawan's eyes. She wanted to guess what it was he was thinking, wanted to know what thoughts ran rampant behind his ever-calm façade. Obi-Wan suddenly swept a hand backwards in order to gesture at the corridor he had just strode down.

"I believe that there is still food in the mess hall––Padmé was there with one or two other handmaidens, last I checked, should you like company," he informed. "You might not want to endeavour traversing Coruscant with an empty stomach. It can be… overwhelming; especially if it's your first time on-planet." Elara nodded slowly and pushed the sleeves of her sand-stained shirt up to her elbows, considering the offer. Truth be told, her stomach felt considerably fine; it didn't grumble with hunger or tighten with the feeling of being too full. But she knew it would be a mistake to embark on a busy day without anything to keep her going.

"A good idea. I'll… grab Anakin and make sure to get something."

"Thank you for returning my robe." Obi-Wan had spoken just as Elara had turned on her heel, which halted her departure. With one hand braced on the wall, the eldest Skywalker looked over her shoulder, baring a smirk that quirked up one corner of her mouth. Her eyes flickered over the young man behind her from head to toe, cocking her head to the side cheekily.

"Well, you couldn't endeavor traversing Coruscant without the proper clothing, now, could you?" she inquired in a joking tone. Obi-Wan chuckled and held out his arms to display the robe he was dressed in.

"I do suppose that attending the Jedi Council without the proper attire would be rather…" he paused and mulled over word choice, " _uncivilized_."

"Perfectly uncivilized."

Obi-Wan chuckled and watched as Elara swept back around the corner she'd just rounded, intent on fetching her brother. He reached up and again fixed the way his robe's over-sized hood sat on his shoulders. When the fabric shifted, he realized that the fabric smelled different, now; after its time spent draped over the Tatooine native, it smelled like _her_. Vaguely sweaty and sandy, but there was something soft and feminine there, too. With a slight shake of his head, Obi-Wan fixed the hood and turned on his booted heel to head back the way he had come.

There was something about the Skywalker siblings that didn't sit quite right with him. It had nothing to do with the fact that Anakin was a little too enthusiastic, or that Elara was emotionally spirited. It had to do with a gut-pulling feeling that told him there was a reason they hadn't been found earlier and taken to be trained as Jedi. That they were, dare he think it, dangerous. They truly seemed like good people. Anakin was a bright-eyed young boy, eager to learn and prove his worth. Elara was kind-hearted, selfless, and, like her brother, eager to learn. He had just met them, and he knew he should reserve judgement till he had been in their presence longer. But the way that the Force curled and shifted around them seemed… wrong. Unstable, almost. It could be chalked up to the fact that they were terribly untrained, that before that day, they were unaware that they could manipulate the Force. It gave Obi-Wan pause, but, as far as he could tell, Qui-Gon wasn't even acknowledging it.

Once Obi-Wan reached the cockpit, he was greeted with the sight of his Master, who was standing just inside the doorway. He approached and bobbed his head in a respectful nod.

"Master," he greeted. Qui-Gon mimicked the action, crossing his arms comfortably over his ribcage. His eyes then roamed over Obi-Wan from shoulder-level to the floor and back up again. When their eyes met, the Jedi Master nodded to the Padawan pointedly.

"You're wearing your robe again; I thought I'd noticed it was missing…" Qui-Gon hummed, a sly gleam appearing in his eyes. Obi-Wan rolled his shoulders, shifting the brown fabric atop his shoulders, and nodded singularly.

"I noticed that, while she slept, Elara was shivering. I did what any respectable person would do and gave her my robe for warmth. I imagine that the interior temperature of the ship differs vastly from that of Tatooine; it will take her quite a while to get used to the drastic shifts in temperature. Not every planet has two suns," Obi-Wan reasoned, a small smirk rising to his face. Qui-Gon reached up and started to stroke his greying beard, his gaze both calculating and what Obi-Wan perceived as amused.

"It was very kind of you, Obi-Wan. Even I hadn't given thought to the Skywalkers' discomfort regarding the temperature. I'm sure that Elara was very grateful for your kindness," Qui-Gon commended in a gentle tone.

"Her gratitude was apparent, though not directly vocalized," Obi-Wan agreed.

"You two seem to be getting along quite well."

A grimace colored Obi-Wan's features and he crossed his arms over his chest. Snippets of their first legitimate conversation coming to mind. He recalled the offended look on her face when he'd called her too old, remembered how it had progressively shifted into one of sadness. "I… wouldn't say that. Of the three times we've talked, we clashed twice. Besides… I'm not sure why, but… something about her doesn't sit right with me."

Qui-Gon chuckled and placed a hand atop Obi-Wan's shoulder. His fingers curled and gave it a gentle squeeze, his eyes glittering with an emotion that the Padawan couldn't quite place. "You've only just met her; give it time, give her a chance. I'm sure the feeling will wane."

"But, Master, I feel the same way towards her brother, as well. Do you not sense it? Surely you feel the strange way the Force bends around them? It's… _dangerous_." Obi-Wan's voice had become hushed, his expression was worried. He watched as Qui-Gon's twinkling expression softened and then faded, a familiar mask sliding back into place. The hand on his shoulder disappeared as Qui-Gon slipped it into the sleeve of his robe.

"As I said, we have only just met them. They are untrained, and thus their energy feels unstable and odd; but, with time and training, I am sure that feeling will begin to wane," Qui-Gon attempted to assure. Obi-Wan's mouth snapped open to speak, but was cut off by a third voice.

"We are approaching Coruscant and will soon begin our descent," informed the pilot. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan turned their attention towards the front of the cockpit, watching as the glowing sphere of Coruscant grew larger and larger. Silence filled the room as the pilot pressed buttons and flipped switches, gently clicking and clacking and beeping. Obi-Wan, whose lips had been pursed, turned his head towards Qui-Gon and dropped his gaze to the floor.

"The Council will not approve of what you wish to do," Obi-Wan determined. Beside him Qui-Gon remained perfectly still, chin level to the floor and face completely stoic.

"Are you speaking the opinion you believe the Council will have, or your own?" the Jedi Master asked evenly. Obi-Wan watched as distinctive circles and lines of light appeared more clearly on Coruscant's surface; a frown tugged at his lips as he thought of all the negative outcomes the Council meeting could lead to. It wouldn't be the first time Qui-Gon had done something to irk the Council members––there was a reason that he hadn't been offered a seat. He had broken rules before, and it would seem that he was intent on doing so again. Obi-Wan cast a concerned glance to the older man at his side and sighed gently through his nose.

"Both."

 _ **Afterword:**_ _**I had a blast writing this chapter; I hope you all enjoyed reading Obi-Wan and Elara interacting for the first time. They're gonna have an interesting dynamic, especially as it develops over time. This is only the beginning…**_

 _ **Review Replies!**_

 **Xx High By The Beach xX:** _I'm glad that you've been enjoying the story so far; it's been a lot of fun writing Obi-Wan and Elara interacting, so I hope it's been fun to read. Hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!_

 **SoleFaith:** _I'm glad that you've stuck around! I'm having a lot of fun writing Obi-Wan and Elara interacting, 'cause their dynamic is so interesting. It's starting out kind of tense, so it can only get better from here. I hope you're still enjoying the story! Thanks again!_

 **M R Kenobi:** _I have to say thank you, very much! I really try and make sure that my stories are written with the proper amount of depth, and have the right amount of work and love put into them. Also, I haven't dropped a review, but I absolutely love your story 'To Know One's Heart'; I adore reading it! I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter; we got some Obi-Wan/Elara interactions in this one. And, you're right––who *wouldn't* fall for Obi-Wan? Thanks again!_

 **grapejuice101:** _I'm glad that you've been enjoying the story so far; it's a blast to write! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks again!_

 **ShappycowMcSkittles:** _I've got a lot of plans for this story, so I hope you stick around to read more. You'll have to wait and see what her presence will affect! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **Captain Murica 2002:** _Thank you! I was really happy with the last line, 'cause I felt like it's a good set up for what the tone of their relationship will end up being. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **masterdude94:** _I hope that chapter three is just as good as the first two. I hit a bit of a block towards the end, trying to figure out how to end it, but I think I managed to move past the block pretty well! I loved writing Elara and Obi-Wan interacting, 'cause even though they're starting out on uneasy footing, it'll only get sturdier. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **The Captains Muse:** _I hope that you keep on reading! I'm flattered to hear that, two chapters in, you already love the story! Thanks again! Hope you enjoyed the chapter!  
_ **brandydasilva18:** _Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!  
_ **Guest 1:** _I do not know who I picture playing Elara––I haven't had a name or face jump out at me._

 **Guest 2:** _Thank you! I hope that you'll stick around and read more!_

 **The Redshirt who Lived:** _Elara's gonna have a fun time learning the Jedi code; she'll struggle, but she'll also triumph… and struggle some more. 'Cause she's a Skywalker, life can't be easy for that family, can it? And the Jedi Masters would totally try and put a stop to any sort of relationship before it starts, so that'll be fun to explore. And I do know who her Jedi Master will be; you'll have to stick around to find out who! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!_

 **Sophia Kaiba:** _I'm glad that you've been enjoying the story! Thank you for reading the first two chapters, and I hope you stick around to read more. Thanks again!_

 **lolistarkiller:** _I'm glad that you've enjoyed the first two chapters and that you're enjoying Elara as a character! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **I Stare Sometimes:** _I adore writing sibling relationships, and I feel that Elara and Anakin's is imparative to this story. They love each other so much, and they've been through so much together that when Anakin starts to turn Dark Side, one can only guess he'll probably try and pull her with him. Also, I get where you're coming from with the name––I'd been considering changing it, and you're review pushed me to do so. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter; thanks again!_

 _ **And thank you to those that added this to their follows/favorites––it means a lot to me!**_

 _ **That's it for now! Up next we get some more Skywalker sibling moments, some more Obi-Wan and Elara bits… lots of fun stuff. I'm having so much fun writing this story, and I'm so glad so many of you are having fun reading it! Thanks again for taking the time to read!**_

 _ **~Mary**_


	4. Coruscant Calling

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize._

4\. Coruscant Calling

The planet of Coruscant was nestled in the Corusca sector, which was settled within the region of the Core Worlds. It one ring away from the Deep Core of the galaxy, meaning that both Elara and Anakin Skywalker had traveled a frighteningly significant distance from the Outer Rim. Coruscant's completely urban landscape was more commonly referred to as Galactic City; the Senate District was home to the Galactic Republic, which operated in the numerous Senate buildings. Whilst the Queen of Naboo would head for the Senate to plead a case for Naboo, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were headed for the Jedi Temple, where they would speak with the Jedi Council on the matter of the Skywalkers. Obi-Wan's apprehension regarding said discussion had not lessened any; arriving back on the planet he had called home for as long as he could recall did not make him relax. He feared every possible outcome of the meeting. The Council would surely reject Qui-Gon's request for them to be trained… but what if they didn't? What if, inexplicably, they allowed them to become Padawans? What if, like his Master, they ignored the dangerous shift in energies around them? But his faith in the Council had to remain strong. Obi-Wan had to trust that no matter how strong with the Force the siblings were, fate would see that they ended up where they truly belonged.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon exited the Nubian ship first, leading the succession of other passengers. They were greeted by Supreme-Chancellor Valorum, a white-haired man in elegant blue robes, and Senator Palpatine, an aging man who acted as senator for Naboo. The two Jedi, both Skywalkers, and Gungan all dipped into respectful bows to honor the highly ranked officials. Obi-Wan could feel the Force tremble with a sense of awe, all of it flooding from the siblings behind him, who, undoubtedly, could hardly believe their eyes regarding their surroundings. They straightened up and stepped aside to allow Queen Amidala and her handmaidens to step forward, which brought a smile to Palpatine's face.

"It is a great gift to see you alive, Your Majesty. With the communications break-down, we've been very concerned. I'm anxious to hear your reports on the situation," Palpatine admitted. Anakin had shuffled to stand before Qui-Gon, who settled his hands reassuringly on the boy's shoulders, which left Elara to stand just behind Obi-Wan's left shoulder. Palpatine introduced Supreme-Chancellor Valorum, who nodded to Amidala respectfully, but maintained a look of stoicism.

"Welcome, Your Highness. It's an honor to finally meet you in person," Valorum intoned monotonously. Queen Amidala, all done up in the typical elaborate get-up of a Queen of Naboo, inclined her head marginally.

"Thank you, Supreme-Chancellor," Amidala replied as she and the Supreme-Chancellor began to walk. Anakin started to follow, and, just as Obi-Wan silently predicted, Elara was quick to follow her brother. The motley entourage followed the Queen and the Supreme-Chancellor, silently moving as they discussed business.

"I must relate to you how distressed everyone is about your current position. I've called for a special session of the Senate to hear your position," Valorum informed.

"I'm grateful for your concern, Chancellor."

"There _is_ a question of procedure, but I'm confident we can overcome it," Palpatine assured kindly. Valorum hung back with both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, the trio watching as the others continued forward.

"I must speak to the Jedi Council immediately. This situation has become much more complicated," Qui-Gon mentioned to Valorum. Their attention was drawn back to the retreating group, having noticed that Anakin had pulled out of the handmaiden's entourage to hang back. Elara, too, had shuffled out of line, ushering him back towards the group when Qui-Gon waved them forward. Obi-Wan mashed his lips together and watched the two leave, noticing how sorely they stood out in their tattered clothing. 'Complicated,' Qui-Gon had said. Complicated hadn't even begun to describe it.

OOOO

Qui-Gon dutifully recalled every detail of their mission, starting with the failed negotiations with the Trade Federation straight to their failed hyperdrive and their arrival on Tatooine. The Jedi Masters listened intently, absorbing each recounted moment with welcoming ears and a curious gaze. Obi-Wan remained patiently and dutifully silent, only speaking up when it was relevant that he do so. For the most part he nodded along and actively listened to what his Master was saying, reliving the adventurous few days they'd just lived through. The curiosity in the room spiked when Qui-Gon mentioned the Dathomirian Zabrak they'd encountered whilst leaving––escaping––Tatooine. Their gazes darkened at the mention of a red lightsaber, and the atmosphere in the room shifted.

"He was trained in the Jedi arts; my only conclusion can be that it was a Sith Lord," Qui-Gon determined confidently.

"Impossible," voiced Ki-Adi-Mundi. "The Sith have been extinct for a millennium."

"I… do not believe the Sith could have returned without us knowing," commented Mace Windu, the Master of the Order.

"Ah––hard to see, the dark side is," Master Yoda reminded. Yoda was a small, green-skinned creature, who had been alive longer than any other Jedi in the room. He hadn't taken on a Padawan since teaching a man by the name of Dooku, whom eventually became corrupted, turned to the dark side, and took on the name Darth Tyranus. Yoda did continue his teachings, however, by teaching all of the younglings before they were paired with a Master. He was well respected and often sought out for the wisdom and knowledge he had honed in the hundreds of years he had lived.

"We will use all of our resources to unravel this mystery. We will discover the identity of your attacker," assured Windu, nodding to the two who stood in the center of the Council room. "May the Force be with you."

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both bowed in respect, but the Padawan was the only one to move towards the door. When he realized this, he stopped and turned on his heel. Obi-Wan's stomach twisted as he realized what his Master was about to do. A cool wave of relief had washed over the young man when Qui-Gon hadn't mentioned Elara or Anakin; he thought that the older man had heeded his warning. Obi-Wan cared very much for his Master, the man who had taught him so much and supported him since the moment he had been assigned as his Padawan. The last thing he wanted to see was Qui-Gon being shot-down _again_. It had happened too many times before. But as Yoda cocked his head to the side curiously, and Qui-Gon raised his chin in preparation to speak, Obi-Wan realized his time to speak was no longer available.

"Master Qui-Gon––more to say, have you?" inquired Yoda. Qui-Gon slipped his hands into the sleeves of his robe, crossing his arms over his chest in a characteristic mannerism.

"With your permission, my Master." When no-one opposed his request, Qui-Gon continued to speak. "I have encountered a vergence in the Force."

"A vergence, you say?"

"Two, to be more precise."

"Located around two people?" Windu asked. His face was a perfect mask of stoicism, betraying not a single hint of emotion. Qui-Gon bobbed his head and let his eyes dance around the room, sliding over the faces of each Council member.

"A boy and a girl––siblings, actually. Their cells have the highest concentration of midi-chlorians I have seen in a life form, let alone two. It is possible they were conceived by the midi-chlorians," Qui-Gon informed in an even tone.

"You refer to the prophecy of the ones that will bring balance to the Force. You believe that it is this boy and this girl?" Windu attempted to clarify.

"I don't presume to––"

"But you _do_ ," interrupted Yoda. He leveled a trembling clawed finger at Qui-Gon, his gold-brown eyes firmly fixed on the man in the center of the room. "Revealed your opinion is!"

"I request that the children be tested, Master," Qui-Gon said calmly. Yoda's browline rose, betraying his surprise.

"Oh! Trained to be a Jedi, you request for them, hmm?" he hummed.

"Finding them was the will of the Force; I have no doubt about it."

Obi-Wan wanted to do nothing more than voice _his_ opinion on the matter. Wanted to speak out and inform the Council of how dangerous the Skywalker siblings felt; how the Force warped around them in a disconcerting, unstable manner. Wanted to deter them from considering Qui-Gon's rash request. But as Ki-Adi-Mundi looked to Yoda, and Yoda to Windu, it became clear that the request had already been considered. Windu shook his head, almost in disbelief, and dragged his eyes to rest on Qui-Gon.

"Bring them before us," he requested.

OOOO

Anakin had requested to see Padmé one last time, as, after that day, it was very likely they would not see each other again. Elara had accompanied her brother, smiling as they wove their way through the Senatorial apartments. The young boy was walking with an excitement in his step. He had truly taken a liking to the Queen's handmaiden, and the excitement he expressed when speaking about her warmed Elara's heart. When they arrived at Queen Amidala's apartments, the guard allowed them inside. The rooms were lush and comfortably furnished, all done in a color scheme of warm reds and browns. Elara had been informed that she and Anakin would be given a room of their own to stay in whilst on Coruscant, and she wondered if they would be as luxurious as the Queen's rooms. She felt dreadfully out of place in her ragged, stained white clothing, and glanced down at her feet, suddenly worried that her shoes were still trailing dust and dirt behind. The last thing that she wanted to do was stain or dirty the carpeting of the Queen's room.

One of the handmaiden's approached the two, saying, "I'm sorry, but Padmé isn't here right now."

"Who is it?" It was the Queen that had spoken. She appeared from the next room dressed extravagantly. Padmé had told Elara that it was fashionable on Naboo to wear such clothing, especially those of higher rank. Elara had never seen such beautiful clothing; the dress was made of rich red fabric with gold filigree, with draping sleeves and trailing skirts. Her hair pulled into an elaborate headdress that split her hair into two arches, at the end of which dangled glittering gold pieces. As was typical, her face was painted white, and the scar of remembrance was apparent on the center of her lower lip. She was beautiful, Elara decided, feeling even more out of place amongst the fashionably dressed Naboo natives.

"Anakin and Elara Skywalker to see Padmé, Your Highness."

"I've sent Padmeé on an errand," Amidala informed in her monotonous voice.

"We're on our way to the Jedi temple to start our training––I hope," Anakin informed. "I may never see her again, so I came to say goodbye."

"We will tell her for you. We are sure her heart goes with you." While the Queen's face remained stoic, there was a gleam in her eyes that spoke of some unnameable emotion.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Anakin said gratefully before turning to exit the room. Elara shuffled forward a step, bent at the waist slightly in a bow, and met the Queen's gaze directly.

"If you would, Your Highness, I would be very grateful if you would thank Padmé for me. She has been very kind to my brother, and it helped distract him from the hardships of leaving home. I would also appreciate it if you relay my hope to see her again," Elara mentioned, hands clasped in front of torso. The Queen bobbed her head, the ends of her headdress swinging.

"I shall," Queen Amidala promised, the corners of her mouth twitching. Again, Elara bowed, thanked the royal, and left the private rooms.

The Skywalker siblings began to navigate their way to the room they had been given, which was only two corridors away. When they had been informed that the Council had agreed to test them ten minutes prior, Elara's stomach had done the most energetic flip-flop it had ever performed. Despite the fact they'd agreed, a looming sense of disappointment still hung over the elder Skywalker's head. Obi-Wan's words rang in her ears, informing her that they were too old, that _she_ was too old. Just because they were being tested didn't guarantee that they were going to be trained. Placing and tightening her hand on Anakin's shoulder, she reduced her walking speed.

"Anakin… there's something we need to talk about before we go to the temple," she said. Anakin slowed to a stop and turned his head in order to stare up at his sister. Blonde hair flopped into his eyes and, with a flick of his head, he cast it off his forehead.

"What is it?" he asked. They had stopped by a large window, through which Galactic City could be seen glittering in the daylight. Elara forced a deep inhale and then sank into a crouch in front of her brother. She slid both hands up and down Anakin's arms, gathering the correct words to say. She flashed a melancholic smile and then grasped his small hands.

"It has been brought to my attention that those who become Jedi are typically trained from a very young age––almost from birth. That means that you and I are considerably old to potentially become Padawans. Now, if either of us were to be trained, it would be _you_ , Ani. Not me," Elara said gently. Anakin's eyes widened in shock, and his mouth dropped open wordlessly. His fingers clutched hers the tightest they'd ever clung, and he took a step closer to her.

" _What?_ No! You _have_ to be trained! It's our dream!" Anakin protested. Elara swept hair behind his ear and forced one corner of her mouth up into half of a smile. She failed to meet her brother's gaze for a moment, actively having to drag her eyes from the floor to meet his own.

"It was my dream when I was younger."

" _No_ , it's _still_ your dream! You lie to Mom and yourself whenever you say it isn't. You think that because you're older, that dream has died. But dreams don't age! They grow with you! You can't let go of your dream, Lari!" Anakin's words were pleading and a slight tremble had entered his voice. His blue eyes had become glassy with a fresh wet sheen that threatened tears.

"I might not have a choice. It's like I said––between the two of us, you're the younger of the two. They're more likely to train you because you would likely learn it better, have more time to do it."

"Well, if they don't train you, they're not gonna get to train me!" Anakin determined, jerking his head upwards defiantly. Elara laughed and shook her head, drawing her hands away from his in order to clasp his round cheeks between her palms. The warm sunlight danced over the soft, childlike planes of his face, reminding her of just how young he was. How, if he _was_ trained, she would miss him growing up. Her lips drew upwards in a trembling smile and her progressively more glassy eyes bravely remained locked with his.

"I won't allow you to give up your future for me, Ani. If one of us can live _our_ dream, we'll live it for the both of us, okay? I will do everything, _everything_ , in my power to make sure you get what you deserve," Elara told him, voice quiet and loving. Anakin's lower lip had started to tremble and, with a sniffle, he nodded. Elara opened her arms and was graced with a tight, loving embrace.

"I love you, Lari…" Anakin said, his words muffled by her neck.

"I love you, too, Ani." She swept her hand over the back of his head, smoothing out his blonde locks. Drawing back, she smiled at him brightly and rose back to her full height. "C'mon. I'll let you have the first go at the refresher."

OOOO

Elara busily tugged at the linen wrappings around her right calf, which she'd wound around her leg a little too hastily after using the refresher. The wrappings were necessary on Tatooine, as it kept sand from getting into one's shoes or pants; but on Coruscant––on any other planet, really––they weren't wholly necessary. It just appeared to be a very odd fashion statement, which made it seem her calf was nearly the same width as her heel and knee. Unfortunately, the Skywalker's had not been allowed time or given the means to fetch new clothing before their meeting with the Jedi Council. Elara wished she could have worn something nicer, something more like the clothing Amidala's handmaidens wore. Even a spare set of Jedi robes would have been better than her dirtied clothing, which she'd owned for far too long.

Pursing her lips, Elara gave the wrappings another tug before securing them. She looked up to find that Obi-Wan had been watching her from his spot on the other side of the corridor. Clearing her throat, Elara stood up and crossed her arms, anxiously returning to silently waiting to be called into the Council chamber. With the wrappings fixed she felt marginally more presentable. Her freshly washed hair had been pulled back into a braid and smelled both fresh and floral. Though, she was unsure whether or not the soap she had used––the kind of which she had never seen the likes of before––could mask the smell of her two day old clothing. Again, a spike of apprehension rose in her stomach and her heartbeat sped up.

The doors to the Council room opened and Qui-Gon stepped through. He nodded to the three in the corridor and then gestured to the room just behind him. "The Council is ready to begin the test. Though, they do request you meet them separately, so your answers do not influence each other."

Elara stepped forward bravely, her movements confident despite the fact she felt anything but.

"I'll go first." She smirked over her shoulder at Anakin. "I _am_ the oldest, after all."

"May the Force be with you," Qui-Gon murmured quietly as she passed by him and into the room.

The Jedi Council chamber was lined with walls of glass, allowing a stunning look at Coruscant's urban landscape that was bathed in the pink light of the setting sun. The floor was made of marble, atop which sat a number of chairs that encircled the edge of the room. In each one sat a Jedi Master, who watched her every movement as she strode into the room. She could sense each of their gazes, feel their combined intensity. It felt as though they were judging her every move, every step, every glance––because they probably were. She stopped in the dead center of the room and turned to her right, facing the man whom had been described to her as Mace Windu, Master of the Order. Qui-Gon had mentioned each of the Council Members' names, though she could only remember a handful. With a deep and steady inhale, she tried to figure out how to reign in her emotions, again recalling Obi-Wan's words from the previous day.

"You must be Elara Skywalker," said Windu.

"I am, sir," she replied in an even tone. Her heart pounded so loudly that she wondered if any of the Jedi Masters could hear it. She wondered if, because it droned so noisily in her ears, she was talking too loud. She fought the urge to cling to the hem of her sleeves or the seam of her pants. The very least she could do was appear calm and collected, and try and ignore the spark of hope and the spark of dread that housed themselves in the pit of her stomach.

"I am Mace Windu, Master of the Order. I believe that, if you have no questions, we will begin your testing." The expectant look on his face silently told her to voice any inquiries she may have at that time. She shook her head to assure him they could proceed. He withdrew a silver paddle and held up at eye-level. He spun it around once so she could see it was, in fact, an electronic device of sorts, with a screen on the opposite side. It was spun back around so Elara was staring at its solid silver backing again. "On this screen will appear a succession of images. I want you to tell me what it image is being displayed. Understand?" Again she nodded, and again her heartbeat sped up. "Begin."

Earlier that day, Elara had come to realize that being tested to become a Jedi meant that she was Force Sensitive. That fact cleared up many strange situations that had happened over the course of her lifetime. Why tools that were too far away from her hand inexplicably ended up in her grasp. Why she always envisioned something happening just seconds before it happened. Why detecting the emotions of those around her came so easily. At that moment, standing in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, Elara had to try to conjure the power she'd never known she had and use it actively. She narrowed her eyes at the silver backing of the small viewing screen and focused as hard as she could.

After an agonizingly long and silent moment, in which not a soul stirred, an image appeared in the forefront of her mind. The outline was fuzzy, but what it was, was perfectly clear to her. "A freighter––an old Corellian model that isn't used anymore." The image faded and, through a slight mental haze, a new one appeared. Elara's brows pinched together as she tried to pull a solid image together. "A comlink." The image shifted into a larger shape that was so familiar to Elara that her lips quirked into a smile. "A bantha." The next image that she visualized was more complex than the previous two, and her quick answering pattern slowed. "Two… two figures engaged in a… lightsaber duel."

Windu lowered the panel and nodded, not allowing her to know whether or not she had correctly answered any of the questions. Elara's lips again twitched into a small smile, showing her gratitude. "How do you feel?" Part of her said to be brave and say that she was confident. But she was stood in the center of a room filled with twelve Jedi Masters who were far more versed in the Force than she was. They would see her lie immediately.

"Doubtful, sir," she admitted softly. The spark of dread had flared, making her stomach roil unpleasantly. A small green creature seated beside Windu, Master Yoda, she presumed, pointed at her with a small, trembling hand.

"Fear, do you feel?" he asked. Elara licked her dry lips and again considered the option of lying. She should say no, say she felt brave. She'd felt brave a handful of times in the past two days. She had left everything she'd known behind and escaped from what had surely been a Sith Lord whilst doing it. But standing there, she no longer felt brave at all. The sick feeling in her stomach reminded her that the test would likely amount to nothing. That she would leave the room and be told that she would never be a Jedi.

"Yes."

Yoda hummed and nodded his head, curling a hand around his small walking stick. His eyes roamed over the Tatooine native, considering her with a calculating gaze. "Attempting to harness your emotions, you are. Unsuccessful, you are being." Elara's eyes fell shut. After taking a moment to calm her increasingly rattled nerves, she reopened her eyes and met Yoda's gaze. He was watching her with a critical gleam that appeared more intense than those around her.

"Your thoughts linger on your brother," commented a Togruta woman on the opposite side of the room. Elara's head cocked to the left, looking over her shoulder at who had spoken. Her head whipped back around as someone before her spoke, and she winced at how jumpy the movement must have made her look.

"Fear for his future, you do. Your own you pretend to care not of––deceiving yourself you are," Yoda informed, his wrinkled brow crinkling further. Elara wordlessly cast her eyes to the floor, and felt the slight sting that Yoda's words had brought. She'd yet to acknowledge that, despite what she had been telling Anakin, she _did_ fear for her own future. What was she going to do when the Council inevitably deny her the necessary training to become a Jedi? She supposed that, somewhere on Coruscant, there was a junk shop that would benefit from another worker. There was one thing that Elara simply wouldn't allow––Anakin would not be allowed to work some low-end job. He deserved to be a happy, playful young boy, not some shop employee who worked for hours on end to make ends meet.

"I deceive myself so that, should the outcome of this not be favorable, I will not fall into sadness or anger. There's no room in my life for either. I do fear for my future, but I'm old enough to find my own way in life––Anakin is not," Elara voiced, the emotion in her voice almost palpable. "I can handle the sting of rejection. I don't know if he can."

"You fear that he will not become a Jedi," Windu determined, cocking his head to the side. Elara remained silent and cursed the fact her emotions were being so damn apparent. They could see right through her, as though she was a hologram projected into the center of the room. "You fear what pain and upset he will go through should he not be allowed to train… and _you_ wrestle with coming to terms that, depending on our decision, you will not."

Elara finally gave in to her nerves and clenched her fingers around the baggy hems of her sleeves. Her head began to bob as she moved it in a nod. "I'm aware that our age restricts your consideration for our training. I'm… remarkably too old, I've been told," Elara mentioned, a small laugh working its way into her tone. Her teeth worried her bottom lip, tugging at the delicate skin. "But… Anakin is still a child. An older child, yes, but a child nonetheless. I know I've no right to ask, but if you can train him… _please_ …" Elara trailed off, her plea unvoiced but clear. The Council remained silent, no one endeavoring to actually reply to her imploring, not that she had expected them to. Windu and Yoda shared a look, through which a quick conversation passed; Windu returned his attention to Elara and nodded his head.

"Thank you, Elara. We have much to discuss––if you wouldn't mind sending your brother in on your way out," Windu said, sweeping his hand towards the door. Elara bent at the waist to bow respectfully to the Master of the Order and, by default, the rest of the Council as well.

"Thank you for your time and consideration," Elara thanked, gratitude clearly apparent in her voice. She took her leave just as she had made her entrance; she kept her chin held high, her steps remarkably confident, and her face composed in a look of calm. And, just like her entrance, her heart was beating impossibly loud.

Once she had ushered Anakin inside with reassuring words sent after him, Elara stepped out onto a nearby balcony for a breath of fresh, calming air. She stood right at the banister, arms curled around her torso tightly. Watching the traffic sail through the pink sky had calmed her nerves significantly; Elara hadn't realized how disheartening it could be to have a group of people see straight through you. To have all your thoughts and insecurities presented to you by someone she had only just met, someone who simultaneously knew nothing and everything about her. Elara's thoughts drifted to Anakin and the fact that he, too, would be facing the same sort of treatment. Reaching over her shoulder she grasped her braid and pulled it forward, starting to unbraid it as a means of calming herself. The sun bleached strands had become exceptionally wavy from the time spent in the braid, and it fluttered around her elbows once it had all been pulled free.

It was significantly cooler on Coruscant than it was on Tatooine, and the native of the desert planet was feeling a tad chilly. Elara's clothes, which were meant to keep her cool on particularly hot days underneath the two suns, were doing nothing to keep her warm. But the view had persuaded her to stay outside. She had never seen so many buildings or speeders in one place in her entire life. All of the lights were dazzling. They seemed to stretch on for miles and miles, much like the sand back at home had. It was hypnotising to watch the speeders go on their way, humming through the sky with seeming effortlessness.

"It's quite a view," Obi-Wan stated, joining Elara at the banister. His lips were quirked into a smirk, something that she should have expected. He always seemed to be smirking around her; she would say it was insufferable if she didn't like the look of it on his face. Elara was half tempted to reference an earlier conversation and mention the fact that he had a tendency to sneak up on acquaintances. But, instead, she decided to keep it civil, and nodded her agreement. She turned her gaze away from the Padawan and stared across the expanse of organized speeder movement.

"I've never seen anything like it," Elara admitted gently. "There must be dozens of planets like this…" Her tone was wistful as her eyes swept over the horizon. Once they finished their sweep, they landed on Obi-Wan, who had taken to staring directly at her. His gaze was gentle and his smirk had softened into a pleasant smile. The smile meant he was not mocking her awe; if anything, he was pleased by it, going by the twinkle in his eyes.

"There are. Then there are also planets such as Naboo that are far more beautiful. Planets where there's sprawling grassland, endless forests… some are even entirely composed of water, I'm told. There's a planet called Hoth where it's endless winter, and from space, it looks to be a soft blue sphere just peacefully hanging in the stars. And I here that there is a planet called Tatooine, where there are two suns that make the heat _unbearable_." Obi-Wan grinned when his little joke caused Elara to laugh under her breath. Obi-Wan bobbed his head in a gentle nod, picturing Elara's desert home. "The galaxy is truly a wondrous place." There was a pause where Elara smiled at the thought of a planet covered in green, the complete opposite of the consistent tans of Tatooine. "You're shivering," he suddenly pointed out. Elara was, in fact, shivering, her arms trembling beneath the threadbare sleeves of her shirt. She waved a hand through the air in dismissal, as she was going to need to get used to temperatures that didn't measure up to Tatooine's blistering heat. In a gallant gesture, Obi-Wan began to remove his robe. "Here, take this."

"Oh, no, I couldn't."

"It's no trouble, I assure you. I'm not the one who grew up on the desert planet of Tatooine," Obi-Wan pointed out with a growing smirk. "I believe that I am better suited for Coruscant's climate, as I have lived here my entire life." He lifted the robe up by the shoulders, letting it be an open invitation for her to slip inside of the warm brown fabric. Elara considered the offer for a moment, mashing her lips together while eyeing the robe. The wind was delivering a consistent chill that rolled across her body in tiny unpleasant waves. Giving in, Elara turned her back to the Padawan and stretched her arms backwards, sliding her arms through the draping sleeves.

Elara wrapped the warm fabric around her body, laughing quietly at how large it was around her frame. The sleeves were comically too big, the bottom of the robe appeared to have more of a train than it did around it's typical wearer, and if she had put the hood up, she surely would have disappeared within it. Residual body-heat clung to the robe, not that Elara minded. She felt vastly more comfortable than she would have liked to admit. Turning back to the balcony rail, Elara smiled over at Obi-Wan.

"Thank you," she said softly. Obi-Wan nodded and a smile appeared on his face.

"Of course." A period of silence began to stretch on between them, their conversation having fallen flat. When a particularly strong breeze swept by, Elara hugged the robe close to her body, glad that it's roughspun fabric fought off the chill. From the corner of her eye she watched Obi-Wan lean forward against the rail and then turn his head to watch her. Elara inhaled deeply and started to pick at the impeccably kept sleeve hem of Obi-Wan's robe. She smiled sadly and turned her head to catch Obi-Wan's gaze.

"I'm not going to be trained," she determined softly. The Padawan cocked his head to the side, a nearly imperceivable crease between his brows. She followed his eyes as they danced over her face, taking in the downward quirk of her lips and the slight squint of her eyes. When his eyes snapped back up to hers, Elara's smile waned into the tiniest smirk to ever grace her face. He splayed a hand towards the temple's interior before it dropped to rest on his hip.

"The Council has not yet discussed what the outcome of your test determines," Obi-Wan pointed out. Elara let her shoulders raise and drop in a shrug, looking towards the ever darkening sky; it had shifted from pink to purple, promising a rich blue night sky. She had never seen a single sun sunset before. Elara was used to seeing a binary sunset, during which one sun would dip towards the horizon, colored a brilliant red. The second sun would hang just above it, just as bright as it had been during the daytime. With the second sun absent, Coruscant's sunset was gentler, and it cast the planet into darkness at least an hour or two earlier than she was used to.

"It's just a feeling," said Elara, reaching up to brush hair out of her eyes. She shifted forward into a considerably uncomfortable position, with one arm lying flat atop the rail and an elbow propped up so she could rest her cheek against her fist. "Why is it Qui-Gon insisted we be tested? There must be a reason. I imagine there are… _many_ people like Anakin and I in the Outer Rim; they aren't plucked off their home worlds and brought to Coruscant on a whim, like us."

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably, and Elara figured that she'd touched upon a rather touchy subject. She turned and watched the Padawan wrestle with whether or not he should tell her why it was Qui-Gon was so insistent on having the Skywalkers trained. Obi-Wan cast a wary glance out of the corner of his eye, which brought about the most concerned look she'd yet to see on his face. The look caused her own brows pinched together, feeling uneasiness stir in her stomach. His eyes flicked downwards to watch the people exiting the temple far below them, so far below that they were just moving black dots. Obi-Wan's tongue darted out of his mouth and wetted his lips, which then parted as he started to speak.

"There is… a prophecy––a Jedi Legend, in fact. It speaks of two individuals simply known as the Chosen Ones; it is believed that they will bring balance to the Force. Qui-Gon believes that… that… you and your brother are the Chosen Ones. That it was the will of the Force we found you both on Tatooine. He believes in this so strongly he is willing to do anything to ensure you both are trained," Obi-Wan explained haltingly. Elara gaped at him, her expression nearly comical in its disbelief.

"Chosen Ones?" A laugh bubbled out of her throat. She had dreamed of being a Jedi, but a 'Chosen One' from a prophecy? The idea had stirred the laughter from her stomach. "Force Sensitive, I can see. But Chosen One…?" Elara shook her head and straightened up, sweeping all of her hair over one shoulder. "What would even convince someone some… slave girl from Tatooine was one of the Chosen Ones?"

"Your midi-chlorian count is unbelievably high."

Elara had just been about to ask what a midi-chlorian count was, when Qui-Gon stepped onto the balcony. Obi-Wan immediately straightened up and turned around, facing his Master expectantly. Elara followed suit, curling her arms around her midsection to keep the robe closed.

"Yes, Master?" Obi-Wan raised his brows, waiting for Qui-Gon to say whatever it was he had come out to say. The Jedi Master was smiling, eyes slowly sliding between the two at the rail.

"The Council has discussed the outcome of the tests and wishes to speak with us all," he informed, crossing his arms over his chest. Elara shrugged off Obi-Wan's robe and handed it back to him for the second time that day, smiling in thanks of his kindness. The Padawan returned the nod and began to redress himself in the roughspun brown fabric. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon seemed to share a look; the Master raised a quizzical brow and the Padawan rolled his eyes towards the darkened sky. Elara hugged her arms around herself, suddenly chilled again, and started to move towards the temple again. She noticed that Qui-Gon was wearing a sly sort of smile, one which made his kind eyes twinkle. He placed a hand on the middle of her back and ushered her inside, where Anakin waited eagerly at the door of the Council's room.

Anakin immediately grabbed hold of his sister's hand, squeezing her fingers tightly. Elara smiled down at him as they walked inside, sweeping her free hand through his hair to smooth out the wayward blonde strands. The Council watched them just as critically as they had when Elara had first walked in, their focus honed in on the siblings and not the two Jedi who walked behind them. Both Skywalkers stopped in the center of the room and were flanked on either side by Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. They all bowed to the Council in respect and, once they had straightened up, Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke.

"The Force _is_ strong with them," he said. Qui-Gon's face became hopeful at the Council's agreement of their strong pull to the Force.

"They are to be trained then?" he asked. Windu held his chin high and stared directly at the Master who had proposed such an idea in the first place. They all waited with baited breath to hear what the Master of the Order had to say. Anakin's hand tightened around Elara's, and she squeezed his fingers back.

"No, they will not be trained."

There was a dropping feeling in Elara's gut that sent a shiver down her spine and a sting of disappointment. She had been preparing herself for the negative answer, but she had not prepared enough, it would seem. The sting of rejection radiated throughout her body, flooding her with a consuming feeling of unpleasant warmth. It was an odd thing having a dream, that one had clung to for hope for so long, ripped away. To have it completely and fully denied. Elara could feel the disappointment radiating off Anakin. They both looked at each other and to her surprise, the look on Anakin's face wasn't sad. His brows were pinched and his lips were pursed; he almost appeared angry. Elara cocked her head to the side, her own brows creasing and her own disappointment becoming forgotten.

" _No?_ " Qui-Gon inquired, sounding and appearing genuinely surprised. Both his hands moved to sit on his hips, staring defiantly at Windu. A twinge of worry caught Elara's attention, drawing her attention away from Anakin and straight to the young man just slightly behind her. Obi-Wan's eyes flashed between Windu and Qui-Gon, likely fearing whatever it was that was about to transpire. Windu met Qui-Gon's gaze evenly and gave a single shake of the head.

"They are too old," he stated evenly, clearly.

"They are the Chosen Ones, you _must_ see it."

"Mmm…" Yoda hummed. His eyes had fallen shut, and his hands shakily rested atop his walking stick. His eyes slowly opened and met those of Qui-Gon, who was staring at him intently. "Clouded these children's futures are."

Qui-Gon shifted the weight on his feet and shot fleeting glances between Obi-Wan, the Skywalkers, and the Council. He began to walk forward, chin raised defiantly and decidedly as he said, "I will train them then."

Elara felt her face go slack at the suggestion. Beside her, Obi-Wan turned his head to watch his Master with scrunched brows and what almost looked to be betrayal in his eyes. His gaze slipped dangerously slow towards Elara, his expression unchanging. If looks could injure, she would surely be bleeding. Her mouth fell open so she might say _something_ , but the feeling of a hand settling on her shoulder muted all sound that might have left her throat. Qui-Gon had taken to standing behind the Skywalkers, a parental hand resting on either of their shoulders.

"I will take Anakin and Elara as my Padawan learners."

"An apprentice you have, Qui-Gon. Impossible to take on a second _and_ third," Yoda stated firmly, gazing at the group with hooded eyes.

"The Code forbids it," agreed Windu.

"Obi-Wan _is_ ready," Qui-Gon pointed out. Clearly cued, Obi-Wan stepped forward, nodding confidently. He stopped just beside Elara, clasping his hands in front of his torso.

"I _am_ ready to face the trials," he said.

Yoda's eyes quickly darted towards Obi-Wan. "Our own council we will keep on who is ready."

"He is… headstrong and has much to learn about the living Force, but he _is_ capable. There is little more that he can learn from me," Qui-Gon attempted to convince, clearly fighting to keep his face composed. Elara watched as both Master and Padawan shared a look over her head, a look that promised a later conversation on what had just been said.

"The Skywalkers' fate will be decided later," Yoda determined.

"Now is not the time for this. The Senate is voting for a new Supreme-Chancellor, and Queen Amidala is returning home, which will put pressure on the Federation and could widen the confrontation," Windu said, leaning forward in his seat.

" _And_ draw out the Queen's attacker," added on Ki-Adi-Mundi.

"Go with the Queen to Naboo and discover the identity of this dark warrior. This is the clue we need to unravel the mystery of the Sith."

Yoda raised a hand and nodded to the group in the center of the room. "May the Force be with you."

 _ **Afterword:**_ _**And that's that for this chapter! We are creeping ever closer to the end of the film; and I'm having such a blast writing the developing relationship between Elara and Obi-Wan. This chapter is a bit longer than the others, 'cause I figured that this would be a good stopping point for the chapter, as the whole of it was focused on the testing and finding out what it is Elara and Anakin's fate will be. I read through the whole chapter and I think I got it all edited, but I've just gotten a new kitten that likes to jump on keyboards while I write. So, if there are any sections where it looks like I'd just bashed my fingers on the keyboard, that's her.**_

 _ **Review Replies:**_

 **I Stare Sometimes:** _I always worry that I write too much detail and that it comes overbearing; I'm glad to hear that it's flowing well! Elara and Obi-Wan are starting to behave more civil towards each other… though that progress may be pulled away now that Qui-Gon has expressed interest in training them. I have some really nice Elara/Obi-Wan moments for next chapter, so look forward to that! And there will be some adorably awkward uncomfortable moments between them as the story progresses. We'll also start seeing more of the conflicted Anakin bits come Attack of the Clones. I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far; I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **ShappycowMcSkittles:** _Super happy that I'm portraying Padawan-Obi-Wan well! The way he acts as a Padawan is significantly different to the way he acts as a Master, so I've been striving to make sure the difference is there in my writing. How he may be a little more blunt to Elara when they talk, but also how he always makes sure to make amends when he realizes he's done something to offend. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **SophiaKaiba:** _I loved writing Elara's little observations about how Coruscant is different to Tatooine––just wait till they arrive on Naboo, which is a far cry from where she grew up. She'll get to see a forest, just like she's always wanted to. I'm still planning out just what I want to happen during the fight on Naboo, as there are a couple of spots in which Elara could fit––or, perhaps, she ends up separated and on her own. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **SoleFaith:** _I really do like the name Elara––when I had been entertaining a story for the Force Awakens, I found the name and fell in love with it; and now I have a way to use it! I'm glad I'm writing Obi-Wan well! He's a tricky one, but a fun one! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **The Redshirt who Lived:** _There will be more Obi-Wan POV moments to come! It's gonna be important as their relationship progresses, that we see how it's affecting both of them. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **Nakamoto Taree:** _I'm very happy you are enjoying the story so far! I really like adding in little intervals of new scenes in between the ones that happen in the movie; there's always so much time that passes, in which we don't get to see what it is they're doing. I really hope that you'll stick around to read more. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!_

 **Guest 1:** _Thank you! I'm very glad to hear that I'm writing all the characters well! Thanks again!_

 **sonsofdurin:** _It was a nice way to connect her to the more 'normal' names of Star Wars, but as I was typing I could picture all of them saying 'Elara' more than I could hear 'Emma.' BUT I am endeavoring to either give her a middle name that's more like 'Emma,' or she'll use that as an alias the way Obi-Wan uses 'Ben.' I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_

 **Guest 2:** _Thank you so much! I'm glad you've been enjoying the story so far; and I hope you enjoyed the new update! Thanks again!_

 _ **And thank you to those who added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot to me!**_

 _ **That's that till next time! Next chapter we'll land on Naboo and venture into the forests… which is going to be such a treat for Elara. Again, I apologize if there are any random little keyboard smash sections––my kitten really likes to walk across and sit on my keyboard! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter––thanks again!**_

 _ **~Mary**_


	5. The Beauty of the Galaxy

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize._

5\. The Beauty of the Galaxy

Elara had her arms wound around Anakin's shoulders, holding him close to her front as they waited to be allowed to board the Queen's ship. After being discharged from the Council, the four had immediately made for the senatorial landing platform, where they would make for Naboo. Qui-Gon had decided it would be best for the Skywalker siblings to join them, as he still considered them under his charge. He had promised their mother he would keep them safe; and he couldn't do that from a different planet. Anakin was watching the traffic zip by underneath them, his fingers playing with the hems of his sister's sleeves. Elara periodically pressed a kiss to the top of his head and continued to smooth hair out of his face as the wind danced around them.

"We aren't too old…" Anakin muttered into her arms. Elara smiled gently, albeit a little sadly, and hugged him to her tighter. "It's not fair, Lari… we shouldn't be looked over just 'cause we're older… it's just not fair…" Elara's smile waned completely and her arms curled around his shoulders more tightly. An image of his young face pulled into an unsuiting look of anger flowed to the forefront of her mind. That look back in the Council room had been surprising––she'd expected him to be sad, but angry? The possibility hadn't really occurred to her.

"Unfortunately, that's how life works sometimes. We may not think what's come to pass is fair, but more often than not, we'll have to deal with the fact that that's how it is. Just remember the fact that being _here_ , on Coruscant, is amazing. We're lucky. And instead of pitying ourselves, we need to be thankful that Qui-Gon has done what he can with the Council," Elara said, head ducked so she could talk down to Anakin directly. He leaned his head back against her chest and she could just barely make out his annoyed little pout; though, his anger had seemed to die down some.

"Why aren't _you_ upset?"

"I _am_ upset," Elara sighed, raising her head to stare out across Coruscant's brilliant nightly display of lights. A corner of her mouth quirked upwards, considering what to say next. "But, like any good Jedi, I'm keeping my emotions in check. It's like you said earlier––I lie to myself _and_ Mom whenever I say that this wasn't my dream anymore. It has been and still is a dream that I hold on to. What the Council said stings, I know. But they also said that our fates are yet to be decided, which means there is no definitive yes or no answer to this situation. We just have to hold out hope."

After a beat of silence, Anakin craned his head backwards and stared up at his sister with raised brows. "Do you think the Council is upset with Qui-Gon?"

"I think…" Elara paused in order to ponder her thoughts, gently rocking both herself and her brother from side-to-side. She tossed hair out of her eyes and ducked her head to stare down at him. "I think that they're just not used to having such a proposal brought before them. Our situation doesn't happen every day. So, don't be sad…" She tucked hair behind his ears and smiled down at him. "Things will work in our favor."

"They think we're dangerous, Lari."

"Well, we'll just have to prove them wrong, won't we?"

Anakin smiled and groaned when Elara proceeded to ruffle the hair that she'd been so meticulously keeping neat. Anakin ducked his head again and kissed the tops of her hands, which were placed just at the top of his chest. Elara looked out over the night darkened skies of Coruscant as her smile naturally began to wane. They were officially going to be venturing off to the second brand new planet they'd ever been to, but the excitement had been sapped due to the day's emotionally tiring events. R2-D2 trundled up to the eldest Skywalker, beeping excitedly about their new adventure; Elara smiled and reached out to pat the top of his dome fondly. The droid whizzed in contentment.

"It's not disrespect, Master, it's the truth," they heard Obi-Wan say. Elara turned around, allowing Anakin to pull himself from her arms, and watched as both padawan and master strode away from the ship.

"From your point of view," Qui-Gon replied evenly.

"They're both dangerous. They all sense it. Why can't you?"

"Their fate is uncertain––they aren't dangerous. The Council will decide Anakin and Elara's future. That should be good enough for you; now get on board." When Obi-Wan slowly turned to walk away, Anakin approached the Jedi Master, a look of guilt crossing his face. Elara watched him walk away, crossing her arms over her ribcage. Anakin and Qui-Gon began to speak, the troubled look still creasing Anakin's forehead. Once the look started to wane and Qui-Gon seemed to have gained control of the conversation, Elara slipped away and climbed the ramp of the ship.

The interior was a fraction warmer than Coruscant's night air, much to Elara's relief. She hated to admit that it was the coldest she had ever felt; the only thing that compared could have been the chills she'd had whilst sick with sand fever. Thankfully the fraction of a stuffed nose she had was only due to the temperature, not an illness. With a little sniff, she raised her sleeve to her nose, dabbing at the slight dampness just beneath it. Her nose then crinkled as the smell of stale sweat and sand mixed with a dull floral scent. A grimace crossed Elara's face when she realized just how terrible her clothes smelled. No amount of fancy Coursantian soap could wash out the years of use her clothing had endured. Even washing what clothes she _did_ have every evening didn't help any. It was painfully clear that, no matter where she ended up, she was going to have to update her wardrobe.

It wasn't too long before Qui-Gon and Anakin boarded the ship, with the youngest Skywalker babbling excitedly about going to Naboo. Qui-Gon ushered him towards the cockpit, smiling at Elara gently as they passed by. She returned the look and shifted away from the ship's entrance as the remainder of the crew boarded the ship after the Jedi Master. The sound of her brother's voice got farther away, moving in the direction of the cockpit. The words of Qui-Gon's padawan came to mind as she stood there, reminding her that there would come a time she would have to step away from Anakin's side. If there was any possibility for him––for _them_ ––to become Jedi, then, perhaps, the time to start getting comfortable with that distance was now. It would be difficult, especially if their fates played out well. The two Skywalkers had always been there for each other, and hadn't spent more than a week apart from the other for the whole of Anakin's life. There was no reason for it, unless Elara had to run errands a town or two over. Their presences were always comforting, a reminder that not everything in the universe was terrible. For the longest time, they were all the other had.

Once the ship had taken off and was headed towards Naboo, Elara found herself wandering towards the canteen, where she had spent the first half of her last journey. When she approached the door, though, she heard a low humming sound, one that she had only heard twice before. It was the sound of a lightsaber at the ready, stilled in the air as energy crackled around it. Peeking through the doorway, Elara spotted Obi-Wan, sans robe, standing in the middle of the canteen, which had been cleared of tables. He stood in a defensive stance, a blue lightsaber clutched in his hands. Before she could even blink, the padawan had started to move, twirling the blue energy blade through the air with a warbling hum with practiced ease. His feet slid and stepped from the side to the diagonal, and shifted his weight to his toes as the soft soles of his shoes aided him in spinning around as he fought an imaginary foe. His movements were sharp and accurate, the blade always coming to a sharp stop as though flying into contact with something. Elara pressed a hand to the doorway and leaned against it, watching mesmerized as Obi-Wan practiced. It was hypnotizing to watch his quick, precise, and potentially deadly movements. To watch as he jumped and dropped towards the floor, pretending to avoid attacks of the foe in his head. In Elara's own mind, she saw him battling a cloaked figure, his red blade gurgling with a darker sound than that of Obi-Wan's sky blue one. She pictured him defending the universe as the Jedi were wont to.

Obi-Wan again spun on his toes before his feet leapt apart, planting them firmly to the ground in order to strengthen his stance. Both arms were held tight to his chest, elbows bent so the lightsaber was held horizontally in front of his forehead, the soft blue light shining across his face. It illuminated a bead of sweat that trickled along his nose, just between his eyes, which were fixated, suddenly, on the young woman who watched him from the door. He didn't move when he realized he had an audience, and Elara didn't move when she realized she had been caught.

"What a fantastic display," Elara commented wholeheartedly. Obi-Wan shifted, then, lowering his arms and moving his feet closer together. The lightsaber remained ignited, but was angled towards the floor in a non-threatening manner. The padawan inclined his head towards her in thanks, leaving the action to speak instead of words. When his head lifted, Elara took note of that mask she was becoming so familiar with. A carefully composed expression that hid any hint of emotion or thought on Obi-Wan's face. She shifted away from the frame of the door and slipped inside, approaching with a casual gait. "It must take quite a while to learn to do all that."

"Years of practice," he confirmed, absentmindedly twirling the blade around with a couple rotations of his wrist. The blade trailed streaks of blue light through the air, drawing Elara's eye as she followed its path through the air. "Even the simplest of maneuvers requires the utmost concentration and delicacy. These sabers are far more civilized than, say, a blaster rifle." He raised the blade as she stopped a few feet in front of him, holding it horizontally between them. Elara could feel the hum of energy in her chest, reverberating between her ribs whilst her skin seemed to tingle. It was a powerful feeling that was simultaneously calming.

"They're far more graceful," Elara agreed.

Obi-Wan turned his back to her and rotated his wrist, performing three more twirls of the lightsaber, arcing it around in front of his chest, behind his back, and then out to the side again. Part of Elara wanted to believe he was either showing off or proving her point of a lightsaber's grace. Then again, she _had_ interrupted his practice session so he might have just been practicing a maneuver. Elara worried the fraying hem of her right sleeve, fingers twisting and pulling at the stray threads. She recalled the look that Obi-Wan had given her in the council room, one so filled with betrayal and hurt that her chest constricted under its gaze. She sat herself down at one of the tables that had been pushed aside, quietly listening to Obi-Wan's lightsaber cut through the air while he trained. The silence between the two in the room held a trembling sort of tension that neither seemed to want to acknowledge.

"What Qui-Gon said to the council… about… Anakin and I becoming his padawans…" Elara started slowly, her tone placating. The warbling of the lightsaber came to an abrupt halt as it was stopped mid swing. Obi-Wan said nothing, but silence said what words didn't. Elara turned her head towards him, focused on the mask he expertly held in place. "I–– _we_ ––didn't know he would propose that. It's clear that Qui-Gon is very important to you, and I would never ask to take him away from you. I know what it's like to have someone who you care for so very much… and how daunting the idea of being parted from them can be… especially if that person is a parental figure." The memory of Shmi's smiling face jumped to the forefront of Elara's mind; a thickness gathered in her throat, feeling, for a moment, just how far away she was from her mother. "He cares for you just as you do for him; he meant you no harm when he made that suggestion; he truly believes in you enough to think that you're ready for whatever trials he speaks of. Just know that… if my brother and I _are_ allowed to train with the Jedi Order… I'll do what I can to make sure Qui-Gon remains your Master."

Obi-Wan slowly lowered the lightsaber and turned to look at her, his carefully composed expression falling away. His brows had drawn together and his lips had pursed, eyes taking in the young woman who sat just a couple of feet away from him. Something in his expression had shifted. Almost as though something peculiar had occurred to him in the time she had been speaking, something interesting enough to have altered his mask. Again, he inclined his head to her, appearing thankful in expression and demeanor. "I appreciate your sentiment regarding the situation; and that you took the time to address it." Elara, with a soft smile gracing her lips, rose to her feet and began to move back towards the door; there were other places she could wander while waiting to land on Naboo. "Stay, if you like." Smile becoming a fraction more lopsided, Elara turned to look over her shoulder at the padawan.

"I appreciate the invitation, but I'm sure that it would be much easier to focus on your training without me permeating the room with unguarded emotion… I've got a lot to think about. But, thank you, Obi-Wan." With that, Elara inclined her head to him and then swept out of the room, fingers still clutching at her sleeve hems.

Elara spent the rest of the trip to Naboo talking to whomever she ran into and had the time to speak. Anakin had explained to his older sister what midi-chlorians were, excitedly relaying the information that Qui-Gon had given him. They were microscopic symbionts that that resided within all living cells; it was what produced life and gave the world knowledge of the Force. Qui-Gon had watched said conversation with an amused twinkle in his eye, nodding whenever Anakin voiced something correctly and winked Elara's way when something was either misinterpreted or put in words that were less than eloquent. Elara had smiled and thanked Anakin for the explanation, kissing his halo of blond hair lovingly. The rest of the journey was spent discussing what the plan would be when they landed on Naboo; Queen Amidala had decided to ask for the Gungans for help. It wouldn't be easy to convince them, but they would have to try. Jar-Jar would have to return to the city from which he was banished in order to plead for their audience. Tensions were beginning to build, as it seemed aid from the Gungans was going to be their best bet.

When they landed on Naboo, Jar-Jar immediately set out to Otoh Gunga with Obi-Wan promising that they would all regroup on the shore of the lake the city was located beneath. Elara only half-heartedly listened to the conversation they held, though, as she slowly walked down the ship's exit ramp. Before her was one of the most beautiful sights she had ever seen. Surrounding the ship were tall trunks of brown bark, delicate waving branches, and fluttering green foliage. Trees. Elara Skywalker of the desert planet of Tatooine was surrounded by lush, thriving, gorgeous _trees_. She had never seen a tree before. The breeze was ruffling the leaves, creating a unique and delicate rustling sound that made Elara's lips pull into a large smile. The air smelled sweet and fresh and cool, a far cry from the dry, hot, and sandy air of Tatooine. A disbelieving exhale passed through her lips as she stopped at the bottom of the ramp. There were so many different kinds of trees… some were thick trunked with large leafs, others were impossibly tall with foliage that was thin and pointy, like a sewing needle. Honestly, Elara had never really dared to think just what trees really _looked_ like; but now that she knew, she had to say that they were some of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

Her gaze dropped to her toes, which were perfectly lined up to the edge of the ramp. Beneath the it was lush green blades of verdure that sprung up from the moist brown soil. It was so untouched and gentle looking that Elara could barely bring herself to step on it. Yet… she wanted to know what it would feel like beneath the soles of her feet; what it would feel like grazing the tips of her fingers and the palms of her hands. Would it be soft or slick? Warmed from the sun or cool like the breeze? Pursing her lips, she set one foot into the grass and laughed breathily to herself. The ground was solid and unmoving, very much unlike the sand she was used to stepping in. The grass gave no resistance, easily bending and crumpling beneath her foot; the taller stalks, the tops of which were tufted with something a soft yellowish-green, knocked against her calves. After taking a handful of steps, Elara eagerly dropped to her knees and threaded her fingers through the blades of green. They were smooth and cool and tickled her skin as she gently dragged her hand across it. Pinching a blade between two fingers, she gave a pull and it gave way with a soft popping snap. She twirled it around a couple times at eye-level before pressing it to her nose. It smelled fresh and like nothing else she'd ever encountered. A hand fell against her shoulder, and looking up, Elara spotted Qui-Gon, who was watching her with a smile on his kind face.

Obi-Wan found his attention drawn away from the swiftly moving Gungan and to his Master, whom stood over the elder Skywalker. She was kneeling in the grass, smiling up at the experienced Jedi; it was the happiest look that Obi-Wan had yet to see on her face. As Qui-Gon moved on and Elara reached out to run her fingers over the seedhead of a stalk of grass, a thought occurred to the padawan. It was the first time that Elara had ever seen a forest. Had ever seen grass or soil that could yield plant life. Even with her back turned to the entrance and exit of the ship, Obi-Wan could tell just how in awe she was; it was evident in her posturing and the way that she couldn't seem to stop touching what was around her. When she rose to her feet, she had turned in a half circle, which revealed the excited grin on her face and the dirt staining the knees of her pants. A smile found itself wanting to crawl across his face as he watched her observe the way the trees swayed around them. It was refreshing to see someone so awestruck by something that many considered mundane and normal. There was almost a sort of… beauty to the situation, found in the gentle grace that Elara was treating her surroundings with. It was almost as though she feared of permanently damaging the ecosystem she was surrounded by; as though all her years spent on Tatooine would bring some sort of misfortune or death to the verdant forest. Obi-Wan, who watched on with a gentle smile, felt himself pushed aside as a small figure flew past him. Anakin had bolted past the padawan and down the ramp, exercising none of the cautiousness his sister did, but did display the same excitement.

Obi-Wan began to descend the ramp after him, casting glances at Anakin and Elara as he walked. The elder Skywalker hoisted her brother up into her arms, saying something to him emphatically as she nodded towards the tree line. The siblings approached a low-hanging branch and began to slide their fingers along the leaves and bark, momentarily distracted from their current situation.

"Wow…" Anakin whispered, rubbing the almost waxy surface of the leaf. Elara watched as he tilted his head back to stare up the length of the trunk, his eyes gleaming with amazement. "They're so tall…"

"They're beautiful…" Elara added, smiling gently. Her eyes fell shut and the ambient noise reached her ears. The leaves rustled in such a way that the sound they created was a gentle whoosh, unlike anything Elara had heard before. Creatures of some sort were singing in the distance, their forms likely as delicate as their lilting calls. Combined, it sounded like the world––the galaxy––was singing. A song free of spoken words or meaning, but a song nonetheless. With her eyes opening again, she turned her gaze to Anakin, who was staring up at the swaying treetops. "Well, now you can check two planets off your long, long list; you've only got a whole galaxy to go!"  
"And you've finally seen a forest!" Anakin exclaimed, twisting around in her arms in order to stare at her wide-eyed. "It's all you've ever wanted!"

"Not _all_ ," she laughed gently. She set the youngest Skywalker back on his feet and lovingly ruffled his hair. Just as he whacked her hand away, someone cleared their throat behind them. Still smiling brightly, they turned towards Obi-Wan, who stood with his hands shoved into either sleeve of his robe.

"We'll be starting our migration towards Otoh Gunga; Qui-Gon is leading the way," he informed gesturing to the treeline. Like a projectile from the muzzle of a blaster gun, Anakin took off excitedly, leaving his sister to call out his name pleadingly. When it was clear he was choosing to ignore her, Elara rolled her eyes but kept her smile. Turning to Obi-Wan, she gestured forward.

"After you," she insisted.

Elara and Obi-Wan fell into step with one another, walking silently as they started to move through the forest. After listening to Anakin chatter excitedly up ahead for a couple of minutes, Obi-Wan cleared his throat and turned his head towards Elara a fraction.

"I feel as though you and I started our acquaintanceship on shaky footing," he informed in an even tone. Elara looked over at him with an arched brow. Their first meeting had, indeed, set her impression of the padawan on rather shaky ground. Elara had initially regarded him as terse and stern and cocky, but there had been moments where he showed a side of him that contested the initial perceptions.

"I would agree."

"If you would consent to it, I would like to disregard our first encounter and start anew."

Elara paused for a moment and stared at Obi-Wan at a complete loss for words. He walked a few more steps and then he, too, stopped. He pivoted on his heel and she was greeted with an expression that read as hopeful. In the forefront of her mind, Elara saw the carefully composed mask that typically reigned over all his features. Of how it was typically his eyes that betrayed and conveyed emotion. A twinge at the back of her mind alerted her to a peculiar shift in the air around her; a trembling that tickled the pit of her stomach and then made it twist. _Guilt_. He was feeling guilty. Elara's eyes widened, realizing she had, for a second time, read into Obi-Wan's emotions. Seeming to realize he had just slipped-up emotionally, and that she had noticed, Obi-Wan cleared his throat and inclined his head to her.

"I… believe I, perhaps, judged too quickly. I allowed emotions to cloud my reasoning and would not allow myself to look past it," Obi-Wan admitted gently, almost bashfully. A smile slowly began to crawl across Elara's face. It was just as gentle as his voice had been, and something about it was reassuring. Then she looked down at her shoes, which were coated in dirt and bracken, feeling her stomach twist around again. His admission struck something within her; a feeling that, perhaps, he was right on more than just one level.

"I… was also quick to judge. I think that the circumstances were not ideal for a first meeting, and we fed off the tension in our surroundings. I would gladly start anew," Elara informed. A small smile appeared at the corners of his mouth and he reached out a hand, fingers extended in a friendly gesture. A gesture that would both cement their decision and start their acquaintanceship anew. Elara clasped her palm against his and curled her fingers around the bottom of his hand. With the handshake exchanged, they continued their trek through the forest.

"Having started anew, I feel as though I should take the chance to thank you, again, for your kind words back on the Queen's ship," Obi-Wan mentioned. Elara shrugged and uttered a quiet little laugh. She wondered if, perhaps, that had been the driving motivator for asking her to start over. It seemed as though it could be a likely possibility, though she wasn't going to question it outright.

"You really have no need to thank me," Elara attempted to brush off. "It's what I believe to be the truth; Qui-Gon cares for you as a father would his own son, and he would do everything he could to spare you of any sort of pain."

They walked in increasingly companionable silence, then, following the group in front of them dutifully. Elara would trail her fingers along the rough trunks of trees as she passed, delicately pinch the leafs and petals of plants, and revel in each new sensation or sound she encountered. The soil beneath her feet was softer than in the clearing, but it was still comparably more solid than the sand she was used to. She slowly became aware that all of her reactions were being observed; carefully taken in by the padawan who walked beside her. There was a slight pinch forming between his eyebrows. Elara tried to ignore it for a while, simply focusing on not tripping over hunks of wood or wayward roots. Eventually she looked over at him, met his gaze, and silently spoke a question.

"Forgive me, it's just… your reactions to this forest are fascinating. One would think you had never seen the sky before today," Obi-Wan mentioned. His tone of voice made it clear he had no intention of insulting her, though it had turned playful towards the end. He was genuinely fascinated and, dare she think it, curious. "You've only ever known vast horizons of sand all your life. I imagine this is quite a breath of fresh air."

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Elara confided in a slightly hushed, reverent tone. Her eyes were bright and a grin had overtaken her face; it was the happiest Obi-Wan had seen her. "There's so much green… so much vibrant, natural color. I have _always_ wanted to see a forest… an ocean… things that could never be found on Tatooine. Things that seem as though they would be so supremely gorgeous that one might weep to behold them."

"Are there no bodies of water on Tatooine?" Obi-Wan inquired. Elara shook her head and moved her thick tresses of blonde hair over her shoulder. Absentmindedly, she started to rebraid it, fingers quickly darting about to curl three distinct strands around each other.

"Water is a precious resource for us; we have moisture farms that draw water out of the air. I can only imagine what a large body of water would look like or what it would feel like to move through it. But, uh… I'm sure I sound mad to you. To anyone who's seen a forest or an ocean before…" Elara trailed off. The heat that gathered in her cheeks betrayed the fact she was blushing, suddenly embarrassed by how she had been acting. She had surely appeared like a young child.

Obi-Wan shook his head and proffered a hand to her as he climbed atop a large, fallen tree. She accepted his hand and scrabbled up the side. Her toes bit into the large ridges of the bark, breaking off a couple of pieces that tumbled to the ground. She was able to easily balance on the width of it, but she continued to hold Obi-Wan's hand until he extracted it from her hold. The size of the tree was the biggest that Elara had seen as of yet. It must have been hundreds of years old…

"I find your fascination quite refreshing, actually. People like me take things like forests for granted––we fail to recognize that beauty that people like you are able to see. To open ourselves up and see what it is _you_ see…" Obi-Wan paused as he slid down the side of the tree and reached up to catch Elara as she descended. She reached down and firmly took hold of his shoulders, fingers pressing into the roughspun fabric of his robe. His hands were firmly planted on her waist, providing support as she regained her footing. " … is to see true beauty again."

Elara stared at Obi-Wan, their gazes locked and unwavering. She had made the mistake of saying fanciful things in front of those who would reprimand her for speaking as such. After all, Elara _had_ been a slave for the whole of her life. Her fate had seemed sealed; and those who had their fates set out for them––such as slaves or servants––were always told not venture to dream of things they could not have or see. She remembered all the times that she had been told to forget her dream, push them aside, and remember her given place in the galaxy. Elara suddenly felt very exposed, now that she had voiced her opinions so publicly to a young man she barely knew. But there seemed to be no trace of judgement upon Obi-Wan's face, even if it had been composed rather meticulously. The expression spoke wonders, even though he did not venture to speak again. He seemed to be telling her that it was alright to think the way she did, that he truly did find beauty and wonder in the way she observed the world. And that made an intake of breath hitch in the back of her throat, thrown off-guard by the silent sentiment.

"Don't fall behind, you two. We've still quite a ways to go," called back Qui-Gon.

The two young adults jumped, the familiar voice intruding on their one-on-one conversation. Obi-Wan quickly retracted his hands, which had still been resting on her waist, and Elara pulled her hands away from his shoulders with a sharpness that could've suggested she'd felt burnt. A quick glance in Qui-Gon's direction revealed him smiling at them over his shoulder. Elara pushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear and started to walk, toe hitting a stone with a dull thunk. After a quick stumble, she righted herself and kept walking, Obi-Wan quickly falling back in-step with her. Their conversation seemed to have met its end once Qui-Gon had interrupted. Though, the silence between them was not as awkward or tense as it had been before. Elara returned to her ever-fascinated observations of the forest, however, once it became clear that talking was off the plate for the moment. She did, at one point, pluck a flower blossom from its stalk, appreciating its delicate beauty before lovingly tucking it into her braid. All the while, the Tatooine native was acutely aware that she was being watched by the padawan beside her. All-in-all, the moment was peaceful, considering the situation they found themselves in. Soon enough the peace would wear away and negotiations would take place; it was all that Elara––anyone––could do to hope that the day's events would benefit them in the long run. For, if they were to knowingly pick at and discover the secrets of the Sith, they would surely find themselves in a situation so dire, they would need all the help they could get.

 _ **Afterword:**_ _**I've been very excited to post this chapter, and it's killed me that I took this long to do so. Life got in the way, as it always does, and it took me a while to write out the whole of the chapter. I have been looking forward to writing Elara's reaction to the forests of Naboo for a while, and I'm very glad that you all finally got to read it.**_

 _ **Review Replies!**_

 **weasleylover10:** _We'll find out soon enough, as the end of Episode I is drawing fairly near… I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **Sophia Kaiba:** _I'm very glad that you're still enjoying the story, and all the interactions between the characters. I think it's very important to emphasise Elara and Anakin's relationship, as that'll play into a lot of stuff as the story progresses. And, of course, the Obi-Wan/Elara interactions are just important, and they're loads of fun to write! I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **ShappycowMcSkittles:** _I had wanted an interaction between Elara and Obi-Wan that would be their first positive interaction, and that seemed like a good place to put one in. And I'd like to think that Qui-Gon is catching on to their growing friendship and finds himself quite amused/happy regarding it. He seems like he'd be in a sort of happy dad situation. I wanted to make this chapter just as long as the last, but I felt like this was the natural end point for what had happened; the next one will be longer, though I can promise you that! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **The Redshirt who Lived:** _I actually never knew that. I did some research on Darth Maul, and that was what it had said he was identified as; but I trust your word and I'll do some more research to try and straighten out my previous description of Maul. Thank you for pointing that out to me!_

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967:** _Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the last!_

 **I Stare Sometimes:** _I wanted Elara to start realizing that, on occasion, Anakin has these little bursts of anger that don't quite make sense. She'll also likely start to realize that more and more, as the events of the films go by. I, too, am excited to get to attack of the Clones, as it will allow for more adult interactions between Elara and Obi-Wan, who are still fairly young as of right now. And, oh, do I have plans! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!_

 **SoleFaith:** _Very, very glad you're enjoying the story and Elara as a character! I've had a lot of fun figuring out how she fits in the universe/with other characters, and I'm very happy that others are enjoying seeing her interacting with the word. I adore writing the Elara/Obi-Wan moments, and strive to make them as cute as they can be with everyone still remaining in character. Also, super excited and relieved to hear you say that I wrote Yoda well––I was very apprehensive regarding the original bits of conversation I wrote for him. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **Guest:** _I'm very glad you've enjoyed the first four chapters! I hope you'll stick around to read more. Thank you very, very much!_

 **my own panther:** _Here's the update! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter; thanks again!_

 **AvengerGleekShadowhunter:** _I've slowly started to really enjoy writing what happens between scenes, and I'm really glad that you enjoy reading my original little creations! Such as this chapter, where I really wanted to write Elara's awe at seeing a forest for the first time, and for Obi-Wan showing us a flash of the man he grows to be, by asking for them to start their friendship anew. I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **ItsJustMe-94:** _Thank you! I hope that you enjoyed the update!_

 _ **And thank you to those who added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot to me!**_

 _ **That's it for now! Next time we'll get to see some action, and probably quite a bit of emotion, as we all know what the end of Ep. I holds. There will be ever increasing moments/scenes between Elara and Obi-Wan, so that's also something to look forward to! I'm having such a blast writing this story and I'm very happy you all are enjoying reading it! Thanks again for taking the time to read!**_

 _ **~Mary**_


	6. The Fleeting Beauty of Life

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize.

6\. The Fleeting Beauty of Life

The arrival to the lake beneath which sat Otoh Gunga was highly anticlimactic. Jar-Jar had appeared from the water––alone––and informed the group that the city was completely deserted. He claimed that the reason for the absence of the Gungans was some kind of fight; one that drove them to depart the city and hide in a secret and sacred location. Such was how they all found themselves being led by Jar-Jar, through more of the dense Nabooian forest. Elara still lagged a bit behind, purposefully using the position to walk slow and continue her observations. The lake had been gorgeous: glittering in the sun, water gently lapping at the shore, smelling clean and refreshing. It was, in fact, the most water she had ever seen in one place before. The trees still swayed above her at their impossible heights, branches and trunks creaking every so often. Creatures flitted between them, some with fluttering wings, and others moving so quickly she could barely make out a single feature.

"Enjoying yourself?" asked Qui-Gon. Elara had not realized he, too, had lagged behind, and was now keeping step with her. She smiled and pulled her braid over her left shoulder, fingers running over the smooth plait.

"Yes. Though some part of me feels guilty for saying so. The situation we find ourselves in is dire, yet I marvel at trees," Elara admitted, a shy laugh gracing the space after her words. Qui-Gon smiled gently.

"You have no need to feel such a way. You harm no one's perception of you by acting with such ardent wonder. These forests are beautiful––some of the most beautiful I've ever seen. When one is not trying to search for a large group of Gungan's, it can be rather peaceful here; a place where one can be in touch with themselves and the Force, combining both elements to create a state of perfect harmony. One day, when your studies are through, you should return here to meditate." He removed his hands from the sleeves of his robe and reached out to gently touch a fern that was blue-green in color. The small leaves on its fronds retracted at his touch.

Elara gazed up at the Jedi with furrowed brows and a curious down-pull to her lips. "You speak as though I have already been approved to study at the Temple and become a Jedi," Elara pointed out. Qui-Gon nodded and slid both hands back into the safety and warmth of his robe sleeves. "But the whole of the Jedi Council seemed adamant on not allowing me––or my brother––to study. At least, that was what I understood them to be saying."

"I believe that with the right amount of reassurance, they will come round. They will realize that you and your brother are to be trained; that it is your destiny. It was no coincidence finding you both on Tatooine."

Elara reached out and touched the same type of fern Qui-Gon had touched moments before. The leaves again retreated from her touch and revealed their soft green undersides. A smile curled at the corners of her mouth and a giddy whirl swirled in the pit of her stomach. She nearly admonished her reaction by calling it 'childish,' but then recalled her previous conversation with Obi-Wan. Recalled him saying that the way she looked at the world was 'seeing true beauty.' Returning her gaze to Qui-Gon, her smile grew and her expression became softer, more humble.

"Thank you," she said softly. Qui-Gon arched both eyebrows gently, half of a smile quirking the corner of his mouth.

"You already conveyed such sentiments back on your home planet," he pointed out. He clearly knew what she was thanking him for. Elara reached out and grasped Qui-Gon by the hand, curling her lithe fingers around his larger ones. His palm was warm and calloused in a few strategic spots that made her believe they had been created from his years wielding a lightsaber. Qui-Gon made no move to extract his hand, but did cast a curious glance down at her as they walked.

"Yes, but I was put off from saying anything too eloquent, as I was crying. I honestly cannot thank you enough; no matter what the Council decides, you have changed my life and Anakin's life forever. You've given us a chance to live. That's the greatest gift anyone could have ever given us. A chance to live––and I shall be forever thankful for that," Elara explained. She squeezed his hand thankfully. The Jedi Master had seemed to be the type of man who knew exactly what words to say, and when to say them. So, instead of stringing together beautifully eloquent words to respond to Elara's statement of thanks, Qui-Gon merely smiled and returned the squeeze of the hand.

"You are very welcome, Elara."

Just then they approached a large verdant bush that was speckled with vibrant purple flowers. Removing his hand from Elara's, Qui-Gon paused by the bush and gently used both hands to pluck a single blossom from its stem. Curiously, Elara paused, threading her fingers through the unbraided section at the end of her plait. Qui-Gon held the flower between his finger and thumb, and he stared intently at its purple petals, which were splotched with little white dots around the stamen. There were four layers of rounded petals, which fanned outwards and curled inwards at the tips. Judging by the fact other blooms on the bush had been large, the flower was but very young. "It's rumored that this is one of the most fragrant flowers on Naboo," he informed Elara. He raised it to his nose, sniffed it, and then held it out to the Tatooine native. Her head craned forward and tilted downwards, her nose burying itself gently in the delicate petals. It was, as Qui-Gon said, incredibly fragrant, and yet it wasn't overwhelming. The scent was soft yet strong, perfectly floral in every sense of the word. Elara smiled and sniffed it a second time. Flowers, like trees, held an incredible sense of beauty to her, as they didn't have any on Tatooine.

"It's lovely," she said, lifting her head. Qui-Gon smiled at her and gestured to her braid, which was still draped over her left shoulder, a silent question in the upwards quirk of his brows. She nodded and allowed the man to gently work the flower into her hair, at the spot where the braid began. He reached under the braid and gave the stem a couple of times in order to make sure it was secure.

"Keep your sense of wonder about the universe, Elara. It's very becoming of you."

Elara grinned and tilted her head back, watching the trees sway overhead. The swishing of leaves and gentle clattering of branches was a far cry from the hollow howling of Tatooine's desert winds and the gradual sliding of the shifting sand dunes. She wondered if she would ever miss the natural sounds of her homeworld; because as she wandered the Nabooian forest, she couldn't be bothered to miss it even in the slightest.

The ground beneath their feet gradually became softer, the soil more saturated with water. The already dirtied shoes Elara wore were promptly smeared with damp dirt that couldn't quite be classified as mud. The trunks of the trees seemed to be thicker around, and more bulbous near the roots. Someone mentioned that they were entering the more swampy area of the forest, where the Gungan 'sacred place' was located. The group eventually bumped into a gungan patrol, who made quick work of escorting them all to the aforementioned spot in order to speak with Boss Nass, their leader. That was when Elara had pulled Anakin to her side, a hand protectively placed upon his shoulder. Dozens upon dozens of gungans were gathered around a small pool of murky water, the shore of which was covered in moss and dirt. While their intentions were diplomatic, Elara was aware that anything could go wrong; and that was something she had to prepare herself for. Standing atop the head of a broken statue, which had been embraced by the roots of an ancient looking tree, was a grand looking gungan, who stared down at them all with narrowed eyes. Elara squeezed her brother's shoulder and pulled him closer to her side. He wiggled, as though he may shrug her off, but her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

"Your Honor," greeted the gungan guard, before gesturing to the assembled group. "Queen Amidala, of the Naboo."

The group halted at the edge of the water, headed by Jar-Jar and Queen Amidala. Jar-Jar gave a tentative greeting as he fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Jar-Jar…" boomed Boss Nass, voice echoing across the water. "Who's da uss-en others?"

"I am Queen Amidala of the Naboo. I come before you in peace," she greeted in her perfect monotone. The leader of the gungans seemed to make a snort of recognition, tilting his head back as he continued to stare at the newcomers.

"Naboo biggen. Yousa bringen da Mackineeks. Dya busten uss-en omm. Yousa all bombad," Boss Nass stated, sweeping a hand out before him. The surrounding gungans began to shift on their feet, as though preparing for some action or another. Feeling a thrill of panic race through her system, Elara shifted a step back, dragging Anakin with her. Just behind her were the two Jedi, whom she knew could handle the situation if it went south. She glanced over her shoulder at Qui-Gon, whose eyes were alert and bright, surveying the situation with an attentiveness that she had never seen before. Beside him, Obi-Wan inclined his head to her a fraction, in what was meant to be a comforting gesture. Strangely enough, she could sense the comfort it was meant to convey. The promise that everything would be alright. Respectfully, she returned the nod.

"We have searched you out because we wish for form an alliance."

"Your Honor," Padmé interrupted, stepping around and in front of the Queen. Elara waited for Captain Panaka or some other guard to reach out and stop her, as it was not a handmaiden's place to address such a high ranking official so directly. But no one made a move to do so. Anakin shifted under her hand, straining to step forward after the pretty young woman. The fingers curled around his shoulder tightened again, forcefully stopping him from moving. His head whipped upwards, a spray of blonde hair falling into his eyes. Elara shook her head fervently, denying him the movement he wished to make.

"Whosa dis?" drawled Boss Nass. His tone was clearly displeased, his arms and hands outstretched in incredulity.

"I am Queen Amidala," Padmé revealed cooly, voice taking on a cool diplomatic tone. Elara could not prevent her mouth from dropping open as a surprised murmur echoed through most of their attending group. The girl whom had strode into Watto's junk shop under the pretense of being a handmaiden, was truly the Queen of Naboo. Anakin shot a disbelieving look in Padmé's direction, blue eyes wide.

Padmé turned to look at the young woman done up in the Queen's finery and face paint. "This is my decoy, my protection, my loyal bodyguard. I'm sorry for my deception, but it was necessary to protect myself. Although we do not always agree, Your Honor, our two great societies have always lived in peace. The Trade Federation has destroyed all that we have worked hard to build. If we do not act quickly, all that we worked for will be lost forever. I ask you to help us. No. I beg you to help us." Padmé then dropped to her knees, staring up at the gungan leader with hope in her eyes. "We are your humble servants." Following the Queen's example, everyone dropped to their knees in respect of the leader they were imploring. "Our fate is in your hands."

There was a tense moment of contemplation, where all Elara could do was stare at Boss Nass, eyes wide. His answer would decide whether or not they might stand a chance against the Federation. The quiet was broken by a hearty laugh, which emanated from Boss Nass' belly.

"Ha! Yousa no tinken yousa greater den da Gungans?" His tone was indiscernibly pleased or upset. A large grin overtook his large face. "Mesa like dis. Maybe wesa bein friends."

Cheers of relief filled the air, and relieved grins crossed a number of faces. Elara felt the tensed muscles in her body go slack, as she sank back to sit on her heels. The release of tension caused her to smile. Using the hand still resting on Anakin's shoulder, Elara pulled her brother close and kissed the top of his head. He made a displeased sound but gave into her embrace anyway, a small smile apparent on his face.

OOOO

Talks ensued the agreement of friendship. The talks included plans of attack for the impending battle, which would likely be very costly. It was agreed that the gungans would lead the droid army away from the city, which would allow the others the chance to enter the city through secret passages and infiltrate the palace in order to find the Viceroy. With him captured, the army would be lost and confused. In hopes of further wounding the potential damage the droids could do, fighter pilots would ascend to the skies and attempt to take out the droid ship; this would sever the connection to the droid fighters and render them helpless.

The infiltration of the city was done quietly and carefully, with any unnecessary chatter silenced. Elara had no time to marvel at the city's gorgeous architecture. All she was thinking about was the way the soles of her shoes touched the ground, consciously making the effort to ensure that they wouldn't scuff the stonework. But that all came second to looking after Anakin, whom jogged a few steps in front of her, his little head bobbing as he ran. The streets were lined with spindly droids, armed with blaster rifles that could wound or kill in an instant. Their heads mechanically cocked to the sides as they moved, surveying their surroundings with mechanized precision. Once they arrived at the main gate of the palace, Padmé went to work on signalling Captain Panaka. As she did so, Qui-Gon crouched before Anakin and placed a hand on his shoulder. His other hand reached out and took hold of Elara's, squeezing her fingers gently. His kindly face was turned up at her as he spoke.

"Once we get inside, both of you need to find a safe place to hide and stay there," Qui-Gon informed coolly.

"Sure!" Anakin agreed easily. Qui-Gon arched both brows and released his shoulder in order to raise his pointer finger.

"And stay there," he reiterated. His attention was then turned to Elara, who had yet to agree to his plan. Her mouth had fallen open in order to reply––to confirm––but no words passed between her lips. Cognitive thoughts seemed to have halted as instinct drove her to say something else.

"I want to help," she said. Qui-Gon blinked, considering her statement. "I… have never fought before, but I want to help. I'm not as young as Anakin; I can hold my own."

"This is no play fight, Elara," Qui-Gon reminded, brows raised. Elara swallowed thickly and nodded her head in acknowledgement.

"I know. I still want to help."

After a quick but thoughtful pause, the Jedi Master bobbed his head once in a nod. Eirtaé, one of Padmé's handmaidens, handed Elara a spare blaster pistol. As everyone prepared to move, Elara took the proffered weapon and looked it over. She had seen the bounty hunters and Hutt cronies toting blasters around before––they always hung threateningly from their belts, settled against the thigh of the wielder. She had also seen a shootout or two, started over petty disputes. But never in her life had she handled a blaster. Or been trusted with one. If any sort of a blaster type weapon came through Watto's junk shop, he had made sure he was the only one to touch it; the same went for any of the blaster cannons that were scrapped off of old ships or cruisers. Elara let it settle into her right hand, the weight of it reminding her of the responsibility her insistent words had brought upon her. The ability to protect––but also the frightening ability to kill. Someone sidled up to her and placed their hand over hers. Their fingers were warm and strong, and were firmly curled her wrist.

Obi-Wan was stood beside her and rotated her hand so the interior side of the blaster was exposed. His thumb stretched out and pushed a small button backwards with a click. She looked up at him and found that both his brows were gently arched. His eyes, which had been trained on the blaster distastefully, rose to meet hers. "You'll want that off if you want it to fire," he told her quietly. There was a slight 'know-it-all' tone to his voice, but it was also just as gentle as his expression; that was how she was sure he wasn't mocking her. Elara nodded and swallowed thickly. Her heart rate began to pick up.

"Thank you," she murmured. Obi-Wan removed his hand before inclining his head to her.

"If you're lucky, you'll only be shooting droids."

"Luck has been on my side lately…"

"May the Force be with you, Elara," Obi-Wan intoned warmly. They maintained eye-contact as Elara nodded and nervously wetted her lips. She wasn't quite sure the proper way to reciprocate the well-wish, but she cleared her throat and decided to reply anyway.

"May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan," Elara responded, voice gentle and quiet. The words felt so natural against her lips, it was strange.

They fell into position with their backs pressed against the wall. Elara mimicked the way that Padmé held her blaster; arm curled in towards the chest, barrel pointed up towards the sky, and the other hand bracing the bottom of the weapon. After a brief pause, an explosion and a spray of blaster fire could be heard on the opposite end of the plaza––it could only mean that Panaka and the other troops had engaged the milling droids. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon both ignited their lightsabers, the energy buzzing as the energy blades came to life. The small group rushed forth, entering the plaza that had become a battleground; Elara and Anakin closely followed the two Jedi, who made quick work of deflecting blaster bolts with their lightsabers. The elder Skywalker kept her blaster at the ready, but Panaka's distraction gave them enough time to make it to the doors of the hangar without much incident.

When the doors slid open, they were greeted with more battle droids, who immediately started to fire on them. While the Jedi continued their deflection work, the pilots, soldiers, and Padmé began to return fire. Elara shoved her arm forward and eyed a particular droid, who was slow to the game and was only just turning around. Pulling the trigger, a bolt of red energy fled the barrel of the blaster and met its mark, cutting into the metal torso of the droid. A breath she hadn't known she'd been holding was quickly exhaled as her eyes darted about to pick out her next target.

"Ani, find cover!" Qui-Gon ordered. Anakin looked part reluctant and part scared, and looked towards his sister with wide eyes. Elara jerked her head towards the ships that lined the edge of the hangar. She threw herself a foot to the left, avoiding a bolt that would have struck her head.

"Ani, go!" she shouted, returning fire. He nodded and darted towards the side of the hangar, scrambling through the blaster fire and sparks.

Elara followed his progress from the corner of her eye as best she could; with her attention divided, none of the shots she got off hit anything substantial. When she turned her head to ensure Anakin was safe––and not lying on the ground injured or worse––her guard dropped. As Elara searched for her brother's head of blonde hair, something struck her right arm. The force was enough to send her stumbling backwards as a blaster bolt cut through her sleeve and across her skin. There was a searing sort of pain, as flesh was both burned and opened. Obi-Wan, who was stood beside her, reflexively reached out and grabbed her left arm, and righted her crumpled positioning. He immediately returned to deflecting enemy fire as the pilots ran for their ships; he had begun to move forward, and Elara utilized his quick deflection work as cover. She looked down at her sleeve, which was singed open and stained with a smattering of blood. The wound was nasty looking, but the heat of the bolt appeared to have partially cauterized it. The muscles around the spot were throbbing something awful, and the sight of the burned flesh made her stomach turn.

From the corner of her eye, Elara saw an approaching droid, its blaster held at the ready. Her arm shot out, wound pulling uncomfortably, and she shot. The bolt cut straight through the droid's head, frying its circuitry and making it her first felled enemy. A grunt passed her lips as Elara felt some of her skin split open. Blood began to trickle down her arm. Obi-Wan cast a quick look over his shoulder, the unspoken message delivered clearly in a single glance.

"I'm alright," she exhaled, clamping a hand over the wound. The pressure relieved some of the pain. There was a resounding boom, which Elara could feel in her chest, as one of the fighters exploded just after exiting the hangar. Elara flinched away from the sound instinctively, eyes flying shut.

"Your right!" Obi-Wan called.

Fighters whizzed overhead and Elara forced her eyes open, gasping when she realized what Obi-Wan's warning had meant. A droid had started marching towards her, just to her right; it started to shoot, red bolts cutting through the air towards the startled Skywalker. A warbling hum buzzed in her ears as Obi-Wan leapt in front of her. The blade of his lightsaber flashed in streaks of blue, deflecting the bolts with impossibly quick reflexes. Elara felt her arm start to rise as she subconsciously anticipated an opening in the flurry of lightsaber moves; it was one of those moments where she just knew the right moment to act. Like when she had prevented Qui-Gon from knocking over a bottle. Just as the energy blade cut to the right, Elara shot twice. One bolt struck the droid's arm, the other blasted through the side of its head. It fell to the ground, motionless, with a clatter. Obi-Wan held brought his lightsaber to its readied position, held parallel to the ground. Elara's arm was still jutted outwards, finger hovering over the blaster's trigger. The two suddenly began to engage in a dance of intertwined offense and defence; Obi-Wan would deflect the enemy bolts and Elara would find openings to fire. She could feel some sort of untapped intuition guiding her to shoot in the right directions. Just as before, she knew when and where to shoot, just seconds before she would do so. Elara's only guess was that it was the Force guiding her.

The fighting started to die down, and the last of the droids hit the hangar floor. Most of the pilots had made it out of the hangar, leaving only a handful of undamaged ships left. Elara hissed and let her arm drop, again twisting it inwards so she could get a better look at the wound. Her left hand clamped itself over it for a second time, her bloody palm further staining the off-white fabric of her sleeve. Having raised her head, Elara nodded to the padawan beside her in thanks. Perhaps she would have vocalized the sentiment if she wasn't breathing so fast. Obi-Wan returned the nod and returned to his place at Qui-Gon's side, saber still ignited and at the ready. After a few quickly thrown glances about the hangar, Elara spotted Anakin's head of blonde hair peeking out from the cockpit of a fighter. She jogged over and listened to Artoo titter a couple of words in binary; Anakin looked up sharply, eyes wide when he spotted Elara approaching. He rocketed to his feet and leaned out of the cockpit, fear painted across his face.

"Lari!" he exclaimed, eyes intent on her arm. A quick glance downwards revealed that the area around the singed hole in her sleeve was stained a vibrant red. A dismissive shake of her head was followed by a smile that she pushed across her face; it didn't feel like a time to smile, but she knew it would reassure him. Her facial muscles felt heavy and still.

"It's nothing serious, I'll be fine, Ani. How about you, are you alright?" Elara inquired, head tipped back so she could speak up at him. His safety took precedence––she had an unyielding need to know if he had made it through the skirmish unharmed.

"Yeah, I'm fine." There was a little shakiness to his voice, which betrayed the fear he must have felt at the beginning of the firefight. Elara's tensed muscles relaxed some and she exhaled in relief. Now that fighting had ceased and she was aware that Anakin was safe, Elara was able to take stock of herself. Her knees were wobbly and right arm was trembling––that caused the hand her blaster was in to shake, too. Taking a deep breath, Elara nodded and smoothed stray strands of hair out of her face; her fingers slipped down to her braid only to find that Qui-Gon's flower was still in place. Elara turned back towards the rest of the group, who were talking over their next plan of action.

"My guess is the Viceroy is in the throne room," Padmé voiced.

"I agree," said Qui-Gon, eyes flickered towards the doors on the opposite side of the hangar––their next goal. Panaka ordered a group of soldiers to run ahead of the group, leading them towards the doors. Anakin rocketed to his feet, eyes dancing across the militarized movement.

"Hey, wait for me!" he called.

"Anakin, stay where you are, you'll be safe there," Qui-Gon said as he and Obi-Wan passed Anakin's fighter.

"But I––"

"Stay in the cockpit!" Elara called up. She leveled a very sisterly look at her brother, which made it perfectly clear there was no room for argument. "You'll be safe. Artoo," she addressed the droid, "don't let him do anything rash." Artoo trilled out an assurance in binary and let his headpiece swivel around.

Elara fell into step with the Jedi, hand tightly curled around the handpiece of the blaster. Her arm continued to shake, her body still trying to deal with the damage dealt by the droid's blaster bolt. The eldest Skywalker exhaled smoothly and quietly, eyes intently locked on the blast doors. Just as Panaka and the troops were within ten feet of the doors, they slid open. Standing behind them was a figure cloaked in black. Everyone came to a stop, confusion wrinkling many a brow. Elara recognized the figure––she had seen it on Tatooine. It was the figure that had relentlessly given chase, tailing them all the way back to the Queen's ship. A deep pull in her gut told her this figure was dangerous; that there was an inherent evilness that it internalized and utilized.

"We'll handle this," Qui-Gon informed, behind to stride forward. Obi-Wan was quick to follow, the two of them eyeing the cloaked figure intensely.

"We'll take the long way 'round," Padmé said. She led the group of troops and handmaidens to the left, where another set of doors waited. Elara began to follow, but lagged behind. Her wide eyes were fixated on the figure in the doorway. It reached up and dropped its hood, revealing a face. A face covered in red and black markings, with a set of stunted horns adorning the top of its skull. Eyes the color of burning lava peered at the Jedi who stayed behind to do their duty. It became painfully clear that Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were about to face off with a Sith Lord. Elara's wide-eyed gaze flipped to the Jedi, as she tripped over her own foot and stumbled backwards.

"Elara, go," Qui-Gon said calmly. He and Obi-Wan shed their robes with somewhat of a flourish and fell into defensive stances; both of their lightsabers burst to life, their tell-tale humming filling the air around them. Elara threw one last look in the Sith Lord's direction, only to find that he wielded a double bladed lightsaber, the blades of which were an angry, buzzing red.

Elara jogged after Padmé, feeling a thrill of panic race up her spine, which gave way to a very uncomfortable shiver. Air hissed in and out of her lungs as she moved, trying to ignore the sounds of the beginning of the lightsaber duel behind her. The world that she had been so eager to be a part of her entire life suddenly became a stark reality. No longer was she play-fighting Anakin in the dusty courtyard of the slave hovels on Tatooine; she was wielding a real blaster that had the legitimate ability to kill. There was a Sith Lord, a Jedi Master, and a Jedi Padawan all engaging in a battle mere feet behind her. This was her reality, now. There was no retreating from it, there was no going back. She was actively involved in a fight meant to free Naboo of those oppressing them; and she would be damned if she didn't try her hardest to help.

Just as the group reached the left side of the hangar, a group of wheel droids rolled in and took on their battle positions. Bolts started flying again, zipping through the air in flashes of red. Bolts of green flew from the barrels of the Nabooian troops, but were all deflected by the droids' shields, which shimmered blue and transparent around them. Elara had taken cover behind a pillar, turning out to shoot a handful of shots every now and again. But the shields rendered the bolts utterly useless. A swear was uttered under her breath and she pressed her back flush to the pillar. Her eyes darted around the hangar, taking in everything that was happening. There was virtually no way out for them till the wheel droids were destroyed, because the Sith Lord still occupied the other doorway. Her gaze fell to the blaster in her hand and back towards the droids.

Elara exhaled and muttered something self-deprecating in Huttese. The idea she had just come up with was stupid––so incredibly stupid––but it might just work. Her thumb pushed the blaster's safety back on, which gave her the chance to shove it into the belt fastened around her waist. She gave herself a short countdown before she bolted right back across the hangar. Luckily, the wheel droids were occupied with Panaka and Padmé's group, so none of the fire was focused on her, per se. A few stray bolts cut into the ground in front of her feet as she ran, but nothing came terribly close to actually hitting her. Elara ran a curved path, which was meant to arc around the lightsaber battle and keep her out of the way. But as she continued running that arc, flashes of red suddenly entered her field of vision. The Sith Lord had backed into the hangar, and had cut right into her path. It was too late to change directions––if she stopped running, she would probably fall flat on her face. Again swearing in Huttese, Elara threw herself at the ground tucking in on herself in order somersault. The low, warbling hum of the Sith's saber loomed over her as she rolled, and Elara was suddenly fearful that the blade would burn into her flesh.

When she came out of the roll, though, it seemed she was in the clear. In a move completely lacking grace, Elara rose to her feet and promptly screamed. One of the Sith Lords' blades cut through the air right in front of her before it came to a stop at a diagonal angle. She could feel the energy emanating from the lightsaber; it was deep and rumbling, and she could feel it rattling against her sternum. For a fleeting second, Elara thought she had the unfortunate fortune to have gained the Sith's attention. However, his attention was focused on Obi-Wan, who had crossed blades with the other half of the Sith's lightsaber. Elara, with a racing heart, jumped over the red energy blade before it could move again and continued running towards the nearest ship––an open topped airspeeder outfitted with guns. She clamoured into the cockpit, nearly slipping and falling a time or two.

Elara shoved her feet into their allotted space and began to work on starting the fighter up. Once the buttons lit up and the engines hummed, she scanned the panels in front of her. Fingers hovered over different colored buttons, and she tried to recall if she had ever worked on such a craft before. As such memories were accessed, she was muttering the manta 'I can do this, I can do this.' Her thumb finally jabbed a red button, which allowed the speeder to take flight. It wobbled as it rose a few feet off the ground. A sigh of relief escaped her mouth and she took hold of the steering module, which both steered the speeder and displayed buttons that would fire the lasers. She carefully maneuvered the ship so it was pointed towards the wheel droids. A thumb danced over the red, slightly recessed button that controlled the guns; she inhaled till her lungs were filled and, on the exhale, she pushed the button. There was a whirring, wheezing sound as bolts of energy were spat from the ship's guns and whizzed towards the droids. Two of the bolts struck one of the droid's shields, effectively eradicating the energy field. A slight push of the steering wheel brought the ship forward and closer; two more bolts cut through the air and destroyed the defenseless droid. Only these projectiles has not been fired from Elara's ship.

Anakin, who had been hiding in one of the fighters, had joined the fray. Elara looked to her brother and the two shared an agreeing nod. They then proceeded to work together to take out the remaining two droids––Elara would obliterate the shields and Anakin would finish the job. In a scatter of sparks and parts, the threat of the wheel droids were eliminated. Padmé, Panaka, and the troops continued forward, and with her part done, Elara prepared to land the ship and disembark. But the sound of engines gearing up caught her attention; her attention was drawn to Anakin's fighter, which had immediately shot from the hangar.

"Anakin!" she yelled, even though there was no possible way for him to hear her.

She turned the ship in the proper direction, Elara began to follow Anakin's ship. But it was flying much too fast, ascending too quick; airspeeders didn't climb to the altitudes Anakin had already entered. She couldn't follow where he went. Her shoulders slumped and the hands curled around the steering module slacked some. She could do nothing but watch as his fighter got smaller and smaller as it made to enter space. Wind whipped around her face, the temperature chilled and uncomfortable. Just as she was about to turn the speeder around and return it to the hangar, Elara heard the unique wheezing sound of guns firing. Her head whipped around and her eyes locked on a blaster cannon that had its sights trained on Anakin's retreating ship. Instinct both sisterly and Force-driven spurred Elara into action.

With a jerk of the steering, Elara flipped the speeder into a roll, which promptly turned into a dive. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her jaw was clenched, and her nostrils were flared. The thoughts in her head became singular and fixated on the cannon. Again, she yanked on the steering module and pulled the speeder up into a smooth glide. She was headed directly towards the cannon, and its sights became fixated on her. She could see its ports rotating as it geared up to fire. Elara, instinctively pushed her weight to the left, pulled the steering in that direction, and narrowly avoided being struck by one of the cannon's bolts. The speeder pulled into a roll that left her head spinning. Once the ship righted itself, Elara maneuvered it so it was, once again, facing the right direction. Something in her head told her to fire, and she did. Green bolts of energy smashed into the stationary weapon and caused it to spark and smoke. After a few more hits, it was destroyed with a satisfying explosion.

Elara yelped as the heat of it reached her face, and pulled the speeder away as quickly as she could. It zipped forward as she panted heavily, eyes wide and mouth ajar. Her head seemed to be trapped in a state of disbelief; disbelief that she had just destroyed a blaster cannon, disbelief that she had actually pulled off all of those moves in an airspeeder that she had never used before. The deep breathing began vocalized as Elara began to laugh, a grin pulling across her face. She had actually flown a real airspeeder––one that was top-of-the-line and was in no state of disrepair. It wasn't a scrappy podracer, it wasn't falling apart. It was something that Watto would have considered a hot-ticket item that he'd attempt to sell at its highest price. Elara was so distracted that she didn't notice that the wing of her speeder was cutting it a bit close to the Royal Palace. It smashed into the stonework with the high-pitched sound of grating metal, and Elara jumped.

"Kark!" she swore under her breath, quickly steering the speeder away from the palace. A quick glance revealed shipped stone, scrapes, and black scuff marks. The corner of her mouth crumpled in a wince, making note to mention the damage done when everything had calmed down.

A number of beeping sounds revealed that the momentary run-in with the palace had rendered something amiss with the speeder's innerworkings. It didn't take long for Elara to steer the speeder around and back into the hangar, where she landed it amongst the scattered parts of wheel droids. She hopped out to inspect the damage, heart still racing. Her lips pulled into a frown as she inspected the missing chunk of the wing; she shook back her sleeves and carefully started to poke around at the wires and circuitry in a fruitless hope there was something she could do. It didn't take long to reach a definitive conclusion––it was irreparable without the proper parts or tools. Both her arms fell to overlap on the damaged wing, and her head dropped atop them. Elara stood in an empty hangar, alone, frazzled, and in no position to help anyone, all because she'd gotten a little excited and didn't look where she was flying. A frustrated grunt escaped her mouth in an exhale; she pushed away from the ship, fingers reaching up to smooth her hair down as she began to pace. What could she do? Panaka and Padmé had already disappeared into the palace, Anakin was long gone, and the two Jedi and the Sith Lord had left the vicinity as well.

Just as she contemplated trying to find the Queen of Naboo, something deep in the pit of her stomach twisted. It was reminiscent of the feeling she'd had back on Tatooine when they had first encountered the Sith. Only this time, it was stronger, deeper, and it made her feel breathless. It made her veins flush cold and pulled at her gut. Instinctively, she turned towards the pull and began to move. It was a slow walk at first, her eyes unfocused and fixed directly ahead of herself. But her gaze suddenly sharpened and fixated on a set of open doors, beside which was a sparking control panel. Her feet quickened, bringing her into a jog. That jog got faster and faster as her eyes would flick in the direction she just knew she needed to run in. The pull in Elara's gut intensified and drove her to keep moving. In the future, when she would look back on the moment, she would come to realize that she didn't remember much of her journey. The path she took was a blur. Whatever it was she thought she was running towards was lost to focus. The only thing that mattered was where her feet were taking her. What Elara vividly remembered, however, was the scene she came across when she reached her destination.

Elara had wound her way into the rooms that held power generators, which were protected by energy fields that flickered to life, fell, and rose again. Kneeling by a circular pit that seemed to drop for miles was Obi-Wan. He was hunched over and shaking, and his arms were curled around something––someone. The first step Elara took forward was tentative and slow. Her brows began to pull together and a sense of overwhelming dread washed over her; the tension in her gut had dissipated, and it left her feeling empty, light-headed, and like she was floating. The person that Obi-Wan was clutching so close, that he was sobbing over, was dressed in the sandy colored robes of the Jedi. Qui-Gon Jinn lay motionless in his padawan's arms. Elara stopped dead in her tracks just at Obi-Wan's shoulder, gaping down at him in growing sorrow. His sobs were heart rending. It sounded as though someone had wrenching the very heart from his chest and he was screaming out the pain. Elara felt her chest begin to ache and her eyes begin to water. The air was filled with the stomach-turning smell of burnt flesh.

Elara placed a shaking hand on the young man's shoulder, and felt him jump beneath her touch. He hunched forward further, clutched Qui-Gon closer to his chest, and his head snapped up and to the side. His eyes were wide and red, tears stained his pinkened cheeks, and his expression was contorted in a look of utter despair. She'd heard him gasp in a breath, which he appeared to be struggling to hold.

"Obi-Wan…" she murmured, voice cracking.

Elara watched as his brows crunched together, his nose scrunched, and his lips pulled down dramatically. He ducked his head out of view and a chest-rattling, strangled sob escaped his mouth. She was hit, then, with a wave of emotions. Heartbreak. Grief. Rage. Anguish. Despair. Agony. It was overwhelming and physically moved her. Elara rocked on her feet and inhaled sharply. In that moment, Obi-Wan had completely dropped his guard––his carefully composed wall––and let all of his emotions run rampant. Everything about it was raw. Elara could sense just how deep the emotions ran, and how terribly it all hurt him. The fingers that rested atop his shoulder tightened comfortingly, and Elara dropped to her knees. She shifted around till she was facing him, kneeling just beside him. The angle was awkward, but both her arms slunk around his shoulders.

The feeling of Elara's arms caused Obi-Wan to slouch sideways into the embrace. His arms remained tightly wound around his Master's body, but the rest of his body had gone decidedly slack. Elara seemed to welcome the added weight openly. A hand gently guided his head to the crook of her neck before fingers gently began slipping through his hair. It had been so long since he had felt so affected by such raw, unbridled emotion; it almost physically pained him. His chest ached as breaths gasped in into his lungs and tore out of his throat in rattling sobs. Minutes passed where all that transpired was Obi-Wan sobbing into Elara's shoulder as she held him close. When, finally, he began to calm, Obi-wan felt numb. His head was tiredly and limply rested against Elara's and his eyes were itchy and hooded by heavy eyelids. The hold he had on Qui-Gon's body had slackened some. Despite the fact there were no more tears, Elara continued to hug him and smooth fingers through his hair. He could feel, now, that she was also shaking. Her fingers trembled with each pass they made. Her shoulders jumped as she inhaled sharply.

Obi-Wan slowly began to pull away, righting himself as best as he possibly could. Elara's arms dropped away slowly, a hand brushing across his chest as it fell. When he looked into his comforter's eyes, Obi-Wan saw they were filled with tears. But, despite that, she gave a shaky smile meant to further soothe his pain. It fell quickly, though, and she ducked her chin and hid her expression away. Obi-Wan watched Elara slowly reach up and remove a vibrant purple flower from unwinding braid; she stared at it for a long moment, her fingers shaking and her brows drawn together sharply. Its petals were crumpled and bruised, but still beautiful. With her emotions completely unguarded, he sensed that the little blossom gave her a sense of bittersweet remembrance. Elara reached out and took hold of Qui-Gon's hand, gently lifting it off the floor. She placed the flower in his palm and carefully curled his fingers around it, gently working in the manner of one who was touching a sleeping person. The Jedi Master's fingers loosened when Elara drew her own away, but they retained the hold on the blossom. Elara's hand remained on Qui-Gon's wrist as she moved it to rest in the middle of his chest, covering the gaping wound that had ended his life.

Silence filled the room. Obi-Wan lifted his chin bravely and took in a deep breath that only shuddered once. He needed to collect himself. He needed to deal with the situation in the manner of a Jedi, no matter how difficult it would be. With an expression that had begun to crumple, Obi-Wan began to shift Qui-Gon's body out of his hold.

"I… n-need to inform the others… Th-that the Sith is… dead… That… that…" Obi-Wan murmured in a broken voice. Just as he was about to lay Qui-Gon's head on the floor, Elara's hand gripped his arm. He froze and hesitantly met her gaze with eyes that had long-since turned red. She was staring at him solemnly, her usually optimistic, wonder-filled expression absolutely absent. They shared a quiet look and Elara shook her head slowly.

"No. I'll go. Stay here with him," Elara ordered quietly. She shifted to her feet and began to move away, her hand lingering on his arm till she was too far away to keep touching him.

Obi-Wan listened to her retreating footsteps and pulled Qui-Gon back into his arms. The words 'thank you' stuck in his throat like a foreign, sticky substance. By the time his throat felt clear, her footsteps had dissipated into silence. A solitary tear trickled from the corner of his eye. The man who had taught him so much, who had been so fatherly to him, was gone. There would be no more words of wisdom, so wisely spoken from a lifetime of experiences. Memories flooded to the forefront of Obi-Wan's mind, recalling the days when the two of them would meditate in the vast valleys of some far-off planet. Of all the places Qui-Gon had introduced him to, and all of the things that he'd taught him. Tears stung and prickled in his eyes. Bending forward, Obi-Wan brushed a gentle kiss against his mentor's forehead. Righting himself again, Obi-Wan caught a flash of purple from between Qui-Gon's fingers––the flower Elara had left. Soon enough, that blossom would wither and die, its brilliance lost to the world. But that was what everything came down to; the fleeting beauty of life. At least, Obi-Wan thought, he got to experience some of that brilliant beauty with Qui-Gon. At least he could follow the Jedi Master's example and share that beauty with others.

Afterword: I apologize greatly for the delay in updating. Some things popped up that really threw me off my game for a while––school, the loss of a friend, work… but, hey, I'm coming up on a break from school and work, so I'll be having some more time to write. I made this chapter extra long to make up for lost time. I had trouble figuring out what to do with Elara during the battle––I had thoughts, but none of them really fit. So I settled on this, and hope that it read okay; I didn't really wanna stick her in somewhere she didn't really fit.

Review Replies!

Sophia Kaiba: I really like writing moments between little Ani and Elara––'cause those are gonna develop and change as he gets older; and I, of course, adore writing stuff between Elara and Obi-Wan, even if it's as sad as it was in this chapter. I'm glad that it reads as them having a spark of something between them :) I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!

I Stare Sometimes: I'm really glad you've been entire the Lari-Wan moments; the more civilized they become, the closer they'll get ;) And the closer they get, the better their moments will become! I hope you keep on reading to see the plans start coming to light! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter; thanks again!

WhisperedxNothingsx: I'm so happy that the Lari-Wan interactions fit Obi-Wan's character. That's one of the more difficult things about this story––he's such a defined character and so set in the ways of being the epitome of Jedi, that it's really interesting to figure out how it is he would start accepting the emotions he'll be beginning to feel. I have plans for Ep III––good ol' heartbreaking Ep III––and I can assure you there will be no sudden, unfounded hatred from Anakin towards Lari. I agree that it would be an injustice to their relationship, as they have been and are so close. Also, I'll never be upset with rambling reviews, in fact, I love them; and I love getting to leave rambling replies And I leave them all the time! I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

RJNorth: Hello again! I'm glad you keep stumbling on my stories, I love hearing your opinion on them. And I did get a little Qui-Gon and Elara time in at the beginning before things went downhill. There will be some Padmé and Elara time in the next couple of chapters as everything starts progressing forward. I am very, very happy that you're enjoying the story and the character interactions so far! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

ShappycowMcSkittles: I figured that in order for Obi-Wan and Elara's relationship to progress, they needed to have that one-on-one moment where they sort of got some stuff off their chest. It leaves room for them to start moving in a more friendly direction. I'm thrilled you enjoyed the descriptions of Elara's awe of the forest. One of the reasons the last chapter took so long to get up was because all I did was go outside, went into the woods, and tried to figure out how Elara would react to different things. I live in New England, so we've got trees galore, but sometimes, I do just have to take a moment to realize just how awe-inspiring they can be. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!

The Redshirt who Lived: I love hiking, too, and actually got the idea for that moment of awe from climbing a mountain this past summer. I sat at the summit and went 'jeez, how would I react to all this foliage if I had only known desert?' And, thank you, I tried to describe the lightsaber practice for the dance-like movements I imagine they have to study in order for it to be so precise. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!

Josie: Thank you so much! I'm glad that your hunt for an Obi-Wan fic lead you here :) I also apologize for the terrible lack of updating, but that should be remedied very soon! I hope that you stick around and read more; thanks again!

ZabuzasGirl: Thank you so much! I hope that you continue to read! Thanks again!

SethadoreVGC: I shall continue! The lack of updates maybe didn't seem like it, but I have every intention of following this story to its conclusion. I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter; thanks again!

And thank you to those who have added this story to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!

Anyone else excited for Rogue One in six days? I certainly am! I'm hoping to see it before the end of the holiday season; who knows, maybe it'll spur me into updating more frequently, like a normal person, ahahah! I hope that you all enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again for waiting and being so patient!

~Mary


	7. Moments of Comfort

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize._

7\. Moments of Comfort

Elara's calloused fingers pinched a sheer layer of rich green fabric, its luxurious texture brushing against her skin. Her hand slipped along the side of her own leg, reveling at the layers of fabric that hung elegantly around her legs. Padmé had insisted that the Tatooine native be given a small wardrobe's worth of new clothing, as the only clothes she had were now battle worn and stained with blood. When a flustered Elara had attempted to refuse, the Queen of Naboo insisted to think of it as a form of thanks for the part she had played in saving the planet. It had been years since Elara had donned any form of new clothing; all of the credits that the Skywalkers made usually went towards food and other required items. And if anyone got new clothing, it was Anakin, as he was still growing. But there she stood, in quarters fit for a noble, wearing a dress that probably cost more credits than she had ever earned in the whole of her life.

A full length mirror was hung against a wall in the room adjacent, so Elara slowly approached, lifting the skirts up to her ankles as she walked. Padmé, who had been eagerly perched on the edge of the bed, beamed when the eldest Skywalker entered the room. The Queen of Naboo clasped both hands under her chin before nodding to the mirror excitedly. Elara flashed a quick smile before turning to face the mirror, hands releasing the handfuls of green fabric. She froze. Elara stared at her reflection in a mild state of awe.

She had never worn a dress before; she had never worn _color_ before. For the entirety of Elara's life, she had been clothed in shades of white and sandy off-white roughspun fabrics, which were worn till they were threadbare. But, now, she was now swathed in a deep shade of forest green that reminded her of the Nabooian forests. Her figure, which was typically disguised by layers of thick, rough fabric, was accentuated by the snug-fitting bodice, which hugged the curve of her waist. Her hands wandered across her own body, which looked startlingly different, which was a funny thought––it was her own body, how could she not have known what it looked like? The skirt of the dress hung around her legs, the opaque fabric rippling like water any time she moved. Overlaying the skirt were layers of sheer fabric of a similar color, the bottom most portions of which were embroidered with flowers of dark-gold thread. A smile slowly stretched across Elara's face as she placed a hand on the exposed skin of her chest. She turned to face Padmé, who was grinning like mad.

"Well?" she prompted excitedly.

"I… I don't believe I have ever felt beautiful," Elara admitted, turning to glance at her reflection over her shoulder. She noted the sheer cape-like attachment that was sewn to the shoulders of the dress. It which provided sleeve-like coverage when it hung, but any movement of her arms sent it rippling. It was decorated in glittering beads of gold and silver, which were clustered about like swirling galaxies. It was like wearing the night sky on her shoulders. "I was never really… allowed to, I suppose. As a slave, you're meant to go unnoticed, and standing out in any way was dangerous…" A grin then crawled across her face as she fingered the edge of the cape. "And for the first time… I think I might just be that. Beautiful."

Elara couldn't stop examining her reflection in the tall mirror. She really did feel beautiful. She had painstakingly taken the time to weave her long hair into a number of braids that then were pinned in intricate patterns at the back of her head; she smelled of the perfumes that she had found sitting on a dressing table, all contained in colorful glass jars. Perfume was something she had always heard tale of, but it was so expensive and such a rare amenity on Tatooine that she had never actually come across it. Therefore, she had curiously opened each of the jars, sniffed its contents, and then carefully dabbed her favored scent onto her skin. Small pots of makeup had sat alongside the perfume, but Elara wouldn't have known what to do with it, so she'd left it alone. Besides, how could she not in a dress clearly meant for royalty?

Just over her shoulder, she saw Padmé appear, and the reality of the situation seemed to rush back to her. The Queen of Naboo had just gifted her the most expensive item she had ever touched. She spun on her toes––which were clad in dark-gold toned slippers––and stared at the young woman wide-eyed. Elara then pitched forward, bending at the waist. It was a form of reaction ingrained in her being from her years of working for Gardulla the Hutt; the Hutts prefered a more formal greeting and expected nothing less. She recalled a time that she had forgotten to bow for Gardulla and was promptly punished by having her meal privileges taken away for the rest of the day. Elara presumed that addressing royalty would require avoiding eye-contact, ducking the head, and allowing any and all actions show subservience. Both arms were pressed flush to the side of her body, and her eyes were dutifully locked on the floor; she could see the toes of Padmé's gilded slippers and the hem of her beautiful dress. It occurred to her that, in a dress, perhaps she was meant to curtsey.

"Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty," Elara intoned gently. There was a gentle laugh, which surely left the Queen's mouth.

"Elara, please, there's no need for that," Padmé dismissed, her tone friendly. Cautiously, Elara righted herself, and found the other young woman smiling at her brightly. Elara smiled back, smoothing her hands over the front of her dress. "You're a friend––friends don't need to follow such formalities. Not in private, at least."

Elara's smile grew and a quiet laugh passed between her lips. "Of course. It's just… I'm… used to having to over-do the formalities, for fear of punishment. It's going to take a while to train myself out of such a mindset." Elara turned back towards the mirror, feeling embarrassment begin to well up in her stomach. Her eyes danced back over the newly exposed skin of her arms and chest, which had been hidden under layers of roughspun cloth for years. Thus the skin was considerably more fair than the skin of her neck, face, and hands, which had been exposed to Tatooine's double suns for years. It was noticeable, which made Elara shift, suddenly a little uncomfortable.

A hand brushed against Elara's, gently grasping her fingers. Padmé gave a gentle tug, which prompted her to turn around. The Queen smiled gently and took hold of Elara's other hand, giving a soft squeeze. The action was friendly and welcomed. It had been an emotionally heavy day and a half, and Elara had done a lot of comforting; she had comforted Obi-Wan as he grieved over Qui-Gon, had comforted Anakin when he had been informed of the Jedi's death. She had fallen asleep with Anakin sniffling against her shirt, not having had the chance to unload some of her own pent-up emotion.

"I can't say that people won't make judgements based on your past; it is, unfortunately, the way some people in this galaxy happen to operate. But know that it doesn't define you. _You_ define you. You aren't 'a slave'––you are Elara Skywalker of Tatooine, a brave woman who has fought for what she believes to be right. So if––or when––people bring up your past with a sneer on your face, take it in stride and know it means nothing. With time, those reactions you mentioned will fade. Your life on Tatooine will seem as though it had taken place a lifetime ago. And, now, you are venturing into your new life, bravely and valiantly. You will do so with your head held high and a beautiful dress flowing from your shoulders," Padmé finished with a grin, reaching out to adjust the beaded cape.

Elara let out a little laugh, the sound warbly as it ventured through her throat. She reached up and rubbed at a cheek, scrubbing away the tear that had fallen from her eye. "You talk so well. I don't know why I didn't realize you were the Queen sooner…" Elara joked. Padmé laughed quietly, and continued to preen the dress in order to make its appearance perfect.

"You didn't realize it because you weren't supposed to."

"I'm surprised neither of the Jedi picked up on it."

"I'm sure they were told not to pry; and they're a very honorable set, aren't they?" Padmé cocked her head to the side curiously, and her brows pinched together at the mention of the Jedi Order. "Have you seen Obi-Wan lately? Members of the Council should be arriving soon and I imagine he'd like to be there; I haven't seen him today."

Elara shook her head and reached up to adjust some of the bandaging that encircled the blaster wound on her arm. She thought of the wave of raw, overwhelming emotion that had rolled off him the previous day. Elara recalled the crumbled expression on his handsome face, and the sound of his heart rending sobs; how he had leaned into her embrace for comfort, and how quietly thankful he had seemed that she'd allowed him to stay while she fetched help.

"I've not seen him since he oversaw the moving of Qui-Gon's body. He disappeared afterwards, and no one that I've talked to has seen him since. He's probably taking the time to grieve privately… I can't imagine it's easy for him," Elara hummed. "But I imagine that he'll be there when the council arrives. It's… his duty to be there; and I take Obi-Wan as the kind of man to always do his duty, even in the most difficult of times."

OOOO

Obi-Wan had been meditating in the palace gardens for a number of hours. It was quiet there, and no one had found or disturbed him. The air was filled with a soft, floral fragrance, and the breeze was cool against his face; it was a perfectly peaceful atmosphere. It was there, under a canopy of vines, leaves, and flowers, that he meditated on his feelings of loss. He did as Qui-Gon taught him––he became completely honest with himself. Obi-Wan filtered through the anger and pain he felt in the absence of his Master. He sorted through every single emotion he had felt in that flood of pain the day previous. Once each emotion was fully explored and acknowledged, he let it go and accepted the growing presence of the Force.

Obi-Wan did this for four hours. At the end of that period of time, he had been connecting quietly with the Force for a full hour. A renewed sense of peace had settled in his body, though he knew that it would take many similar meditation sessions to fully come to terms with Qui-Gon's loss. At the end of the fourth hour, he heard someone moving through the garden; Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, dutifully remaining in meditative peace. The Force seemed to grow in presence as the person in the garden grew closer. There was a rustling of plant fronds and the gentle scuffing of shoes against flagstone. As they got closer, the Padawan prepared to remove himself from his meditative state.

"Oh," a soft voice murmured. "Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Elara?" he inquired, allowing his eyes to open. Their focus remained soft and fixed on the vine-covered wall he sat in front of. Behind him, he could hear Elara step off the path and into the grass.

"I wouldn't interrupt you if I didn't have to. Queen Amidala wished for me to inform you that the Council will be arriving soon, and that your presence is requested in the central hangar."

Obi-Wan rose to his feet and straightened out his tabard with a quick tug. He then picked up and donned his cloak, once he was sure it was free of dirt or grass. "Thank you for informing me. It would be quite rude of me not to be present upon their arrival."

When Obi-Wan turned around, he was surprised to see that Elara did not look as she usually did. The Tatooine native––whom he'd only seen dressed in sand colored clothing––was now clothed in an elegant dress fit for Nabooian royalty. Beads glittered on her covered shoulders, sparkling in the rays of afternoon sunlight. The forest green fabric brought attention to just how pale her arms and her chest were, as they had been hidden beneath layers of roughspun fabric for years. If he hadn't known better, Obi-Wan would have simply thought her to be one of Naboo's senators. Elara was worrying her hands just in front of her stomach, calloused and scarred fingers squeezing and rubbing at her bandaged palm.

"You look lovely," Obi-Wan complemented quietly. A brilliant smile bloomed across her face, then, and she looked down at her new attire. Her cheeks, which had faint hints of a dying sunburn, turned even pinker. In that moment he could sense that she felt embarrassed being complemented in such a way; perhaps it was the first time anyone had ever said such a thing to her.

"Thank you," she replied. Returning her gaze to his, she smiled sheepishly. Obi-Wan returned the smile and inclined his head to her. "If I were to wear battle worn and bloodied clothing when not engaged in battle, I would probably be considered…"

"Uncivilized," he offered, a teasing look flashing across his face. Elara smirked at the reference to a conversation they'd held not but two days ago. She pulled her hands away from her stomach and let them hang at her sides, where they brushed against the dress' sheer overlay.

" _Perfectly_ uncivilized," Elara said in a hushed tone, as though secretly scandalized. Obi-Wan's smile grew for a fleeting moment, but it dissipated just as quick. He approached the flagstone path and proffered an arm, which was bent at the elbow.

"Shall I escort you back to the palace's interior?"

Elara laughed, cheeks pinkening for a second time, and accepted the offered arm. "Yes, thank you."

They continued back down the path Elara had emerged from, ducking under leafy fronds that brushed the tops of their heads. Obi-Wan watched Elara from the corner of his eye, smiling gently at the awe she continued to hold for the plants that surrounded them. Even after the horrors and pain of the previous day, she still found the world around her beautiful; and something about that was incredibly reaffirming. When he had entered the garden earlier, he had been blind to its flowering beauty. The events of the previous days that dampened the bright colors and dimmed the glowing light. But Elara, despite the darkness and the pain she had experienced and witnessed, still saw the vivid colors and basked in the shining light.

Obi-Wan plucked a thin stalk of yellow flowers from a bush as they passed, considering the delicate blooms gently. They were relatively small and trembled at the slightest move his hand made.

"Elara…" Obi-Wan began, brows pinched. Beside him, Elara's head turned and she looked at him inquiringly.

"Yes?"

"I cannot think of a way to properly thank you for the comfort you offered me yesterday. It was, perhaps, one of my most vulnerable moments. Your kindness was genuinely touching, and it was very much appreciated. In that moment I was unable to express such gratitude, but I want you to know it did not go unnoticed or unacknowledged," Obi-Wan told her. His tone was wholehearted and soft, much like the way he'd spoken as they'd navigated the forest.

Elara had been watching him with an expression that had crumpled and betrayed what sadness she felt. A twinge of that sorrow could be felt, now, as her guard dropped and her emotions became exposed once more. She tightened her hold on his arm, practically hugging it to herself.

"There's no need to thank me," she murmured. "Comfort is something that everyone deserves to have in the moments they need it most. I would like to… _ardently_ apologize for your loss. Qui-Gon was a man whose kindness could not be matched; it must be like losing a parent. I know that words are not consolation for your loss, but… it's the only way I can coherently express my sympathies."

They had stopped walking just in front of the entrance to the palace, which was shaded by an overhang decorated with moss. Tiny white floors bloomed amidst the moss, the delicate petals practically glowing in the sunlight. Elara had turned to face Obi-Wan square-on, a frown on her typically smiling lips.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said softly. "I am aware that you, too, feel the sting of his loss. I have always been able to sense your gratitude towards him, as he was the one to free you and your brother. You have a right to feel upset, Elara. His kindness touched you as well, and its absence is startling." He then held up the stalk of flowers and offered it to Elara as a token of comfort and gratitude. Obi-Wan watched her crumpled expression begin to lighten, a teary laugh bubbling from her lips; she reached up and accepted the flowers, gently pinching the freshly picked stalk. He noticed a smattering of scars across her fingers and hands, likely garnered by years of working with scrap in that junkyard on Tatooine. They were thin ribbons of pale flesh, which contrasted to the sunkissed flesh of her hands––some were long, others were short and thin. Elara brought the flowers up to her nose and gave a gentle sniff. Her smile grew a little more and the young woman cleared her throat.

"I should, uh… let you get to the hangar. Thank you for the flowers…" Elara held them up with half a smile and stepped into the palace. She turned away then, as the Padawan followed her inside, and started back down the corridor, her mission now completely. Obi-Wan watched as Elara's retreating form, the cape of her dress rippling and glittering, as though she carried the blanket of space about her shoulders.

OOOO

Obi-Wan had taken a knee, and watched as Master Yoda paced the ornate marble floor, leaning heavily on his gnarled walking staff. Outside the sun was beginning to set, and the time for Qui-Gon's funeral approached. The light was beginning to turn pink, tinging the clouds a brilliant pastel color.

"Confront you, the level of Jedi Knight the Council does. But agree with your taking the siblings as your Padawan Learners, I do not!" Yoda informed sternly. Obi-Wan looked to the floor briefly, recalling the promise he had made to his Master in his dying moment. He promised to see that the Skywalkers were trained, as Qui-Gon had wanted to see done.

"Qui-Gon believed in them," Obi-Wan voiced calmly, bringing his gaze back up to the disgruntled Jedi Master. Yoda sighed and turned around, staff clacking against the floor.

"The Chosen Ones they may be, nevertheless, grave danger, I fear, in their training."

"Master Yoda, I have Qui-Gon my word. I _will_ see that Anakin and Elara are trained." Obi-Wan raised his chin a fraction higher. Yoda made a disquieted sound and shook his head. "Without the approval of the Council if I must."

"Qui-Gon's defiance I sense in you. Need it, you do not," Yoda hummed, with a frown appearing on his deeply wrinkled face. He stopped pacing, both hands coming to perch atop his cane. He took in a deep intake of breath and continued. "Agree with you the Council does. Your apprentice, the boy will be."

Obi-Wan shifted on his knee, staring at the wise Jedi Master stood before him. Yoda turned his head towards the young man, eyes slightly narrowed; it was as though he knew exactly what question he would ask next. "And the girl? What of Elara's fate?"

"More time in this galaxy, she has had. Emotions run strong within her; more dangerous, this makes her––more prone to the Dark Side, she would be. The Force within her is strong, yes, her inclination towards good apparent," Yoda explained, turning towards Obi-Wan. He raised and brought down his staff with a _clack_ that echoed through the room; Yoda's face was somber and strictly composed. " _My_ apprentice, the girl will be."

Obi-Wan inclined his head in respect, and a tightness in his chest had loosened. Both Elara and Anakin were to be trained, just as Qui-Gon had wished. Anakin would be his Padawan. And Elara––who, out the two, had been least likely to be trained––would also become a Padawan Learner. He supposed that, perhaps because Yoda was the oldest Jedi Master of the Council, he was better suited to handle Elara's peculiar case. She had been living for nearly twenty standard years; she would be the oldest being to ever begin Padawan training. It would be a long, hard journey for the eldest Skywalker, as it was quite plain that she was very emotionally connected. But, surely, if Elara was deadset on becoming a Jedi, she would throw her all into it.

Obi-Wan returned to his quarters, toting a small pile of fabric in his arms. The fabric was, in fact, clothing––Anakin's future Padawan uniform. He would tell the boy of the Council's decision that evening; it would be a bright moment in a night of somber tradition. Once in the privacy of his rooms, Obi-Wan took up the small set of shears that were meant for cutting hair. His fingers danced along the length of his Padawan braid, which ended at the bottom of his ribcage. Slowly, Obi-Wan raised the shears and fitted the top of the braid––which started just behind his ear––between the two blades. There was a sharp _snick_ as the shears severed the impossibly long braid from his head. It fell to the floor, and with its descent, he gained the title of Jedi Knight. The moment was bittersweet. He had always believed that Qui-Gon would be there for that special moment, smiling as he removed Obi-Wan's braid. Instead, the newly appointed Jedi had cut the braid off himself, stood alone in his given quarters. He wanted to believe that, somewhere, Qui-Gon was smiling, proud at the accomplishments that he'd aided Obi-Wan in achieving.

OOOO

That evening, after the sun had set, a small group assembled to pay respects to Qui-Gon Jinn. The funeral was held in an open-air funeral temple, that overlooked the gorgeous landscape of Naboo, which was bathed in dusky light. They gathered around a pyre, on which his body had been laid, and stood a mostly silent vigil as they watched his body burn. Those in attendance included members of the Jedi Council, Queen Amidala and her handmaidens, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Boss Nass, the newly elected Chancellor Palpatine, and members of the palace guard. Elara held Anakin aloft and against her hip, just as she had done when he had only been a toddler. His small arms were wound around her neck and his head was dropped down against her shoulder. Every now and again, she would hear him sniff quietly and rub his cheek against her shoulder; she would rub his back and kiss the top of his head comfortingly. Together they stood and watched their savior's heroic profile begun engulfed in flames, surrounded by solemn silence.

The air eventually began to smell less of burning wood, and more of burning flesh. It was a scent that made Elara's nose crinkle. But just as her expression crumpled, it relaxed into a saddened smile; it was then that she noticed a wilting purple flower tucked behind one of Qui-Gon's ears. Its petals had slackened within the heat, and it wouldn't last much longer, but she knew that it was the blossom that she'd left with him. From the corner of her eye, Elara saw Obi-Wan turn towards her. She smiled at him gently over Anakin's ducked head, which raised when he noticed his sister's shift in attention.

"What will happen to us now?" Anakin inquired of Obi-Wan. His hood was drawn up, casting shadows across his face, which was bathed in firelight.

"The Council has granted me permission to train you, Anakin. You will be a Jedi, I promise," Obi-Wan informed, tone gentle.

Anakin looked up to his sister with wide eyes; eyes that were simultaneously excited, scared, and sad. It wasn't hard to miss the fact that he had specifically addressed the youngest of the two siblings. That Elara was not mentioned in the acceptance of training. But, Elara smiled at him softly and bent her head to kiss his forehead. Such was the outcome that she had been preparing for, and thus, the sting wasn't overwhelming. Elara pressed her cheek to the top of Anakin's head, then, her attention returning to Qui-Gon's silhouette. What _was_ overwhelming was the fact that she would likely not see her little brother for many, many years. That once he left to become a Jedi, her chances of seeing him again were quite slim. Anakin clung to her neck tighter, his hands grabbing fist fulls of the beaded cape. Elara began to murmur words to Anakin, dipping in and out of Huttese; the typically guttural language sounded shockingly delicate when spoken so quietly and carefully by the eldest Skywalker. She spoke words of comfort and assurance, words of love and affection.

"W-what about Elara?" Anakin asked in a hurried voice. "What about Lari?"

"Ani," she admonished quietly, "keep your voice down."

"Elara is to be trained as well," Obi-Wan informed. Elara, wide eyed, looked to the newly appointed Jedi Knight. He nodded to confirm his statement and continued. "The Council decided that you, too, would be trained; you are to be the apprentice of Master Yoda."

A surge of disbelief flooded through Elara's body; she had been sure––absolutely sure––that she would never be allowed to train. The odds had been piled up against her. She was too old, and considered too dangerous; and considered as such by the one who was to be her teacher. Anakin clung tighter to his sister, but she could tell his anxiety had melted away, replaced by nothing but excitement. Elara kissed the crown of his head before returning her attention to the pyre. It would seem that Qui-Gon's wish regarding the future of the Skywalkers had been granted.

A number of hours later, as the fires of the pyre died down, the funeral reached its end. Elara found herself standing at the railing of the stone bridge connected to the funeral temple, staring out at the night blanketed landscape. Waterfalls crashed silently in the distance, send up plumes of mist, and the stars glittered above her head dazzlingly. As she leaned forward on the balustrade, something fell from her carefully pinned hair and fluttered to the stone railing. It was a delicate yellow flower. Elara pinched it between her fingers and raised it to eye level; it was one of the flowers from the stalk Obi-Wan had given her earlier in the day. Finding that the blossoms matched the embroidery on her dress, she had taken each one and carefully tucked it into her hair. She let the flower topple from between her fingers. It fell and fell and fell, twirling and tumbling towards the ground far below.

"Skywalker," the gruff voice of Yoda addressed. Elara immediately straightened up, and turned towards the small figure that approached her. She dropped to a knee and bent her head with respect, and another flower toppled from her hair. She listened to the quiet clacking of his staff against the stonework. It grew closer and closer till it stopped.

"Master Yoda." She raised her head, and met Yoda's gaze square-on. He stood a handful of feet away, his face composed in a gruff look, his browline drawn low over his eyes. Elara wetted her suddenly dry lips and bobbed her head in a nod."Thank you for agreeing to take me on as your apprentice."

"Many apprehensions, I do have," Yoda informed point-blank. Elara pursed her lips and again nodded, dropping her eyes to the ground. He placed both hands atop his gnarled staff, and leaned on it heavily, angling himself closer to the eldest Skywalker. "Very emotionally connected you are, and very difficult to give up it will be. Allowing emotions to rule you gives way to the Dark Side; it tempts and seduces you into darkness. Goodness, I do see in you, Skywalker, and strong within you the Force is. But nearby the dark is lurking. Waiting. Very determined, you must be, to begin this journey."

Elara nodded and recalled what she had said to Anakin two days previous––she told him they would show the Council there was no need for them to believe them to be dangerous. It was quite clear in Yoda's expression and tone that this undertaking was not his ideal outcome.

"I am aware of your apprehensions, Master Yoda, as you did voice them at the Council meeting. I swear that I will undertake this journey with the utmost determination and seriousness. I will take care to learn what it is you have to teach, and I will not stray; this is a promise that I make to you here and now, and one that I shall remain beholden to," Elara assured wholeheartedly. She again bowed her head in respect and waited for some form of acknowledgement. There was a pause and she felt a shift in the air around her; Yoda hummed and shuffled a few steps forward. Elara felt something nudge her chin. She looked up to find that Yoda had raised his staff, presumably to gently knock against her chin. While his expression was still quite sternly composed, something about it had shifted, become a little lighter.

"Reassuring this promise is. Forgotten it will not be. Begin, your training will, when you return to Coruscant."

OOOO

The uniform of the Jedi were almost always seen in shades of brown and tan, colors that Elara had been very familiar with. The morning after Qui-Gon's funeral, she was tasked with dressing herself in the many layers of Jedi clothing. First she donned the undertunic, followed by the tunic itself, and then the tabbard. All of this was secured in place by an obi and a leather belt that hugged the layers of fabric to her waist. All of this was off-white and color and made of a fabric just slightly heavier than what Elara's clothing from Tatooine had been made of. It was softer, too. Her pants were made of the same fabric of the exact same color, and knee-high brown leather boots topped off the whole look. All-in-all it was quite comfortable; but Elara had to wondered if that was simply because of its similarity to her slave's clothing.

Elara returned to the mirror she had stood before the day before, when she had marveled at how she looked in color. Now, she stood there clad in the sandy tones of Jedi vestments, and everything felt _right_. From the way the belt held fast to her waist, to the slight pinch of leather around her ankles. The color––or lack thereof––complimented her tanned skin, and hid the irregular tan lines from view. The sleeves were relatively loose, and perfectly accommodated the slight bulk of bandaging around her arm. Elara twisted from side-to-side, straightening seams and hems, viewing her brand new clothing from every possible angle. A smile began to grow across her face, giddy and excited. She was to be a Jedi. It was something she had dreamed of happening to her since she was so very young, and something that she had deemed impossible for quite some time. It was almost unbelievable that she was dressed in the traditional clothing of the Jedi, preparing to begin her journey; it was only believable because she could feel the brush of the cloth against her skin.

It was then that Elara turned her attention to her hair; it was braided and draped over one shoulder, just as it usually was. It would also be the last time, for many years, that she would see her hair in such a manner. A Padawan's uniform was mostly defined by their given hairstyle––the braid and the tail. Obi-Wan had informed her, the previous evening, that some time that morning he would assist her in cutting her hair. And, quite honestly, there was no one else she would have trusted more to carry out such a feat. Elara turned away from the mirror and almost immediately spotted the dress she had worn the day before.

Finding Obi-Wan's quarters was relatively difficult, even when he had given her its estimated location. After wandering for a little while, she was able to finally identify the correct door; this was only because the Jedi Knight was waiting in front of it. After brief pleasantries, she was gestured inside. There was a stool in front of one of the open windows, and beside it sat a small table laden with a number of items: there was a set of shears, two lengths of different colored twine, and a comb. Elara began to unbraid her hair, running her fingers through the strands of blonde hair repeatedly. She then gestured to the simple comb with inquiringly raised brows.

"May I?"

"By all means," Obi-Wan replied, gesturing forward with a hand. Elara then took to combing her hair, freeing it of any knots or tangles. When unbraided, her hair fell to her elbows, and when combed, it became fluffed like brushed flax. "How long has it been since it was cut last?"

Elara shrugged moved the comb through the length of another portion of hair. The teeth of the comb hit a snag and she began to work on teasing it out. "Many years––too many to count. At best, I would say… eight years? Nine?" She set the comb aside and pushed all of her hair over her shoulders, so it flowed down the length of her back. Elara sat herself down on the stool, facing the window, and gave half a smile. "It has been… my only accessory."

A set of fingers gathered all of her hair up as though it would be tied off at the nape of her neck. Obi-Wan then sectioned of a portion of hair just behind her right ear; his warm fingers brushing against her skin as he worked out the perfect sized section. "I am sorry that we have to cut it, then."

"It's alright. This is a new life, yes? A new life requires changes; perhaps it's time for a change," Elara murmured, a little smile resting on her lips. Obi-Wan pushed the majority of her hair over her left shoulder, before standing at her right.

Obi-Wan's fingers nimbly worked the three strands of Elara's hair into a thin braid. It was meticulously and tightly interwoven, which spoke of the many years he had braided his own hair. It was tied off at jaw level with a length of orange string, and the excess was wrapped around the knot. Elara watched him pick up the small pair of silver shears. Leaving about an inch of excess hair beneath the tie-off, Obi-Wan snipped off the remaining length of hair that fell to her elbow. The locks of blonde hair fluttered to the ground in a gentle curling pattern. The shears were set aside again and the Padawan-turned-Jedi Knight repositioned himself to stand directly behind the elder Skywalker.

"Typically your Master would be the one to do this," Obi-Wan mentioned as he dragged his fingers through her hair. Elara pretended that the sensation of his fingers pulling through the untangled locks of hair didn't feel particularly nice. She could feel him sectioning off a piece at the back of her head, twisting it around so it formed a sort of tail. "Unfortunately, Master Yoda has pressing matters he must attend to before the parade. I was entrusted to carry out the ritual."

"Ritual?" Elara echoed, brows pulling together. Obi-Wan picked up another section of string and tied off the portion of hair he had separated from the mass of blonde locks around it. That piece of twine was black.

"Perhaps it is not a ritual, per se. The Padawan braid symbolizes your status as a learner; therefore, having your Master––the one who is to teach you––aid you in the transition only makes sense. Similarly, your Master is also meant to remove the braid once your training is finished. It is… a tradition. Yes, that's the correct word. Tradition. Not ritual." Obi-Wan again took up the shears and there was a thick snipping sound of blade cutting through hair. A thick chunk of blonde tresses slumped downwards, forever removed from Elara's head. It had been years since her hair had been cut. Not only had there never been time to sit down and physically do so, it simply never seemed important. She had worked in a junk yard. A simple braid to keep it out of her face and off her sweaty neck did nicely; and the longer her hair was, it was easier to braid.

"I trust you've done this before?"

"I have. Anakin's hair has gone through the change, and I was in charge of keeping my own hair in check."

"Will it be as short as yours?" Elara asked, again feeling him drag his fingers through her hair. He moved to stand at her right shoulder, gently sectioning off and straightening another portion. It was typical Padawan style, she had been told, to have practically buzzed hair, a braid, and a short tail at the back of the head. It was a visual symbol of their learner status and a uniform of sorts, almost. Obi-Wan raised both brows and paused in his actions. He took the time to smirk at her cheekily.

"Would you not like it to be?" he intoned. Elara shrugged and reached up to touch the newly acquired braid, and her fingers ran along its stunted length.

"I… have no quarrels. It's just hair, it'll grow back. Though, I don't think that I would suit the style," she admitted. It was true that she would have no reason to vehemently deny the traditional haircut. As mentioned before, Elara had never felt particularly attached to her hair; but she did have the strangest feeling that the look wouldn't suit her as it would, say, her brother. Or Obi-Wan himself. Said Jedi Knight chuckled and returned his gaze to the work in hand. His fingers slid along the length of her hair to smooth it out, and her scalp was accidently given a short little tug.

"While the hair style is traditional, the Temple and the Order do not absolutely dictate what it is your robes or hair can look like; the only requirement is that you maintain the Padawan braid till you graduate to the status of Jedi Knight. The tail, of course, is also a staple. But, should you wish to keep your hair longer, there would be no objection," Obi-Wan explained, pulling the hair in his hand away from her head. "Though, you will have to tell me your choice."

Elara thought the options over for a minute. The tail had already been cut and the braid had already been made. Not only would both look substantially more odd and comical with longer hair, who was she to deny tradition? This was to be her new way of life and such things were to be embraced. But, perhaps, she should stand to have a bit more length. After specifying a projected length of hair, Obi-Wan nodded and began the slow, meticulous process of cutting all her hair. The first strand was cut off near the temple, and then the mountain of hair on the ground began to build. The two remained respectfully and comfortably silent during the process. That is, till Elara felt the need to, once again, ask a question or two.

"I presume the colors mean something?" Elara inquired. Her fingers plucked up the remainder of the orange twine. It was coarse and thin, but strong. It had been made for durability, to stand the test of stress and time. Another chunk of hair fell to the ground after another snap of the shears.

"That they do. Each color denotes a certain stage of your learning experience. Orange is the first, followed by red, and so on," Obi-Wan confirmed. Elara recalled all the colored twine that had sectioned off portions of _his_ braid, which was now completely absent. More of her hair was shorn off. "By the end of it all, you'll have quite an amalgamation of colors to display."

"It adds a bit of flash to the robes, doesn't it?" Elara picked at the hem of her off-white sleeve, a monotonous but joking tone to her voice. Behind her, Obi-Wan chuckled. That was a sign of upliftment that he hadn't displayed since Qui-Gon's passing. A smile started to crawl across her face, as the warm sound resonated in his chest.

"That it does."

They dissolved into comfortable conversation, then, to pass the time. Obi-Wan inquired about her life on Tatooine, and so she spoke of Shmi and Watto, and what it was like to live under the rule of a Hutt. In turn, he offered stories of himself as a young Padawan Learner, of the brilliant planets he had visited, and of missions long since passed. By the time that all the cutting was done with, Elara's head felt markedly lighter. There was no hair tickling her arms or fluttering around in her eyes. Both her hands raised in order to smooth her fingers through the newly shortened locks. They were long enough that she could actually run her fingers through it, but short enough to not be bothersome and to properly display both the tail and the braid.

Elara rose to her feet and moved towards the modest sized mirror that was hanging off the wall. The moment her eyes caught sight of her reflection, she froze. Her hair was the shortest it had been since she was very, very young; it was just barely long enough to still be able to run her fingers through it. But it wasn't the shortness that had caught her so off-guard. It was the sudden realization that, _yes_ , she was a Padawan, now. It was a heavy wash of responsibility, which flooded over her and made her clothes seem heavier than they were. Elara reached up and pinched the Padawan braid, fingers dancing along its thin, short length. It was the responsibility of being a future protector of the galaxy. The responsibility of finding and upholding her role in keeping everyone and everything safe. A responsibility she had craved to have as a young child. One that she had finally realized was incredibly dangerous and a true life-time commitment. It was something that she had been, and still was willing to take-up; but she had the sneaking suspicion the weight that had settled in her robes would never lighten.

 _ **Afterword:**_ _**So I saw Rogue One and it, indeed, spurred me to get this chapter done and posted. Oh, boy, Rogue One… the ideas it has given me and the need to weave a story through it/the other movies has strengthened. I hope that you all enjoyed the chapter, as there were bits in here that I've been wanting to post and write for quite a bit. We got a bit of time between Elara and Padmé and quite a bit of time with Obi-Wan and Elara; next time we'll be back on Coruscant and all of the training will begin.**_

 _ **Review Replies!**_

 **ZabuzasGirl:** _Nah, nothing bad––just life being life. I decided Yoda would be Elara's Master because of the fact that she's so completely out of the norm in regards of being a Padawan. Since he was so wary of her being trained in the first place, I kind of figured he might choose to oversee her training, as she has the potential to be quite dangerous. I thought about it long and hard, and considered Plo-Koon and Mace Windu and various others… Yoda just seemed to work the best. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **RJNorth:** _I really love writing really emotional scenes; there's always an endless amount of ways to describe such deep, raw emotion, and I love exploring all of that. I think that flowers may end up being a bit of a thing with Elara––flirtations, perhaps ;) We will see more of Padmé as the chapters go on, even though they're in training and what not. Senators gotta go to Coruscant some time! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **I Stare Sometimes:** _Rogue One certainly did spur a quicker update! And a whole boatload of ideas for a Rogue One story––lemme tell you, that movie toyed with my emotions. I also saw it in IMAX 3D, so it felt really real, and my hands were shaking by the end of it. And, yeah, last few months were tough––my friend passed away, so I was dealing with a lull in really wanting to do anything. But writing helps me get out of those slumps, so writing this story actually helped a lot. And I'm glad that Elara's role in the last chapter worked out; just the right balance of fighting. She's new to everything––fighting, combat flying, etc––so I thought that she would still be figuring it all out. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **LoveFiction2016:** _Thank you! I hope you keep on reading!_

 **FlowerChild23:** _Here's the brand new update; I hope that you enjoyed getting to read it! Thanks again!_

 **The Redshirt who Lived:** _Artoo definitely will get a mouthful––though that is yet to be seen. And thank you so much! I stressed over last chapter a lot, as I definitely racked my brain to figure out how Elara fit into it all. But I'm super happy you were glad with the rendition of the battle! Thanks again; I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!_

 **Guest:** _Elara is definitely a very emotionally connected and empathetic person; I don't think she would've let Obi-Wan suffer on his own. He'll definitely get chances to repay the favor, especially as their relationship begins to grow. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967:** _Here you are! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!_

 **PatronusFloo182:** _Thank you! Here's an update; hope you enjoyed!_

 _ **And thank you to those that read and added this story to follows/favorites; it means a lot to me!**_

 _ **And there you have it! Next up we see the beginning of Elara's training; and, boy, is that gonna be fun! Some adventures on Coruscant, maybe? A shared drink of Keela with Obi-Wan? Who knows––we'll see where inspiration takes me. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again for taking the time to read!**_

 _ **~Mary**_


	8. Moments of Normalcy

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize._

8\. Moments of Normalcy

Elara Skywalker was officially the oldest being to ever have undergone Youngling training; and that was something she didn't know whether or not she should be proud of, or mortified about. Some of the Younglings had snickered, others had stared openly in curiosity. She was the tallest of them all, which had meant she was to stand at the back while trying to forget that she was considerably older than every other Jedi-to-be in the room. As time wore on, however, many of them greeted her with grins and hugs, and made inquiries that were always surprisingly well thought-out and eloquent for their ages. Elara was always ready to oblige answering the questions. Often times she would tell stories at the evening meal, sitting cross-legged with a number of younglings gathered before her. Some of the stories were true to life––things that had happened to her––and others were tales that Shmi had told her and Anakin as they grew up. It was not uncommon, after the younglings retired for the evening, that she would share tea with Obi-Wan or one of the other Jedi or padawans. They would speak about the Force at length and delve into anecdotes that made them laugh. It was these regular chats that had helped ease Elara into her new life, realizing that, yes, it could be a _life_ ; it wouldn't all revolve around training.

For two whole months Elara went through the paces with the other Younglings, before Yoda had decided her lessons were to become private. She had advanced quickly, he had told her, especially for someone who had not been trained since birth. It was in those private lessons that she started learning how to properly meditate. It was much more than simply sitting down and shutting one's eyes, Elara had come to realize. Every day, for a number of hours, she would sit upon a meditation dias in a darkened room. Yoda would sit across from her, managing to both meditate and instruct her. She was urged to focus on every emotion and thought, deconstructing it to think about the reason, emotion, and drive behind each one. She was to do that till her mind became peaceful and quiet, becoming aware of the Force's presence around her.

As of late, however, Elara's meditations were consistently interrupted by the same thought. The same very specific memory. Without fail, just as her mind was entering that blissful state of utter peace, she would begin to remember Tatooine. Specifically, the sound of the wind. It was a hollow sound, whipping across the endless desert with a decided ferocity. Often times, at night, it sounded like the low howling of a distant, terrifying creature. It used to scare Anakin when he was very young. It used to scare her, too. But as Elara got older, it became something absolute in a galaxy where everything changed. The rolling dunes and flat plains of rock were where the wind could be heard best; that was something that Elara had discovered on her many runs between settlements for Watto. On occasion, when she could spare the time, Elara would stop and just _listen_. To the whooshing waves of moving air… to the emptiness of it. It was a sound that whipped by her ears and just seemed _freeing_. It was a comfort for her, sometimes.

It was that hollow sound that invaded her meditations, making her stomach twist and her brows pinch. Elara had once wondered if she would ever miss anything about Tatooine––and how odd it was that the _one_ thing that made her long to go home was her memory of the _wind_.

Elara's meditation sessions became focused on how to get past that memory. It was difficult, however. The memory was stubborn and refused to go away for long. Frustration would build in the pit of her stomach as the sound would fade and then resurface with a deafening vengeance. When this happened, Yoda would always say the same thing:

"If frustrated you become, peace you will not reach. Focus on your distraction and discover why it is there. Deconstruct it. Let it become nothing more than sound… allow it to guide you to peace."

Then, for the rest of her meditation sessions, Elara would _focus_ on the sound of the Tatooine desert. She thought of how dynamic it was, and why it was so comforting to her. Why it felt so freeing. With each deconstruction and each revelation, the sound began to lessen. At the beginning, it took at least two hours to eventually reach silence. Slowly but surely, as the days passed, the time decreased. It became easier to push past the whistling of the desert. It was then, in the silence, that she felt the touch of the Force and the peaceful feeling it brought to her. In connecting with the Force, Elara felt connected to everything around her. It was a unifying, harmonizing feeling that was just so incredibly pleasant and calming. Any frustration she had felt earlier had completely dissipated, leaving her feeling like she had a warm glow hanging about her.

It was after one of these long sessions that Elara found herself sitting alone in her modest room. Jedi living quarters were particularly basic, which provided the eldest Skywalker with a bed, a meditation dias, a small seating area, and a refresher room. One of the walls was entirely made of windows, which held the ability to obtain a darker tint to block out the light in case she wished to meditate in a darker setting. Not much was there to personalize the room; the Jedi were minimalistic. Not that she had much from her old life on Tatooine to warrant much decoration. The most notable thing was the small glass jar sat on the small table beside her bed. Inside were the dried and pressed flowers that Obi-Wan had given her from the palace gardens back on Naboo. They were so pretty that she just had to keep them. They were unlike anything she had seen before.

Elara was sat on her meditation dias, knees hugged to her chest, while she watched speeders zip past in constant streams of light. That was the most beautiful thing about Coruscant, she had decided––the ever flowing rivers of light created by the constant traffic of the city planet. To those who lived there, it was likely viewed as a nuisance. But to Elara it was like watching the pulsing veins of a living creature. It was watching the flow of life. It also didn't hurt that it just looked pretty. A soft smile lingered at the corners of her mouth, the warm feeling of peace from her meditation still hanging about her person.

A quiet chime sounded, signalling that someone was at the door. Elara twisted around and padded towards the door, stretching out a hand to press a button on the panel built into the wall. There was a gentle whooshing when the door glided open. Stood on the other side was Obi-Wan, with his hands gallantly clasped behind his back.

"Good evening, Obi-Wan," she greeted, a trace of surprise evident in her voice. He smiled and inclined his head in response, briefly allowing his eyes to fall to the floor.

"Good evening, Elara. I hope that the end of the day finds you well," he intoned. Elara bobbed her head in a nod and returned his easy smile.

"It does, thank you. And you?"

"The day has treated me quite kindly. May I?" Obi-Wan gestured towards the door, asking to enter the room. Elara stepped aside to allow him inside, shutting the door with another push of the button once he had passed over the threshold. "You're usually in the canteen at this time of day; I was surprised to find you absent from your usual seat."

Elara shrugged and made her way to the small seating area, claiming one of the chairs as her own. Obi-Wan took to making a slow perusal of the room, eyes scanning the bare walls and the carefully made bed. "Most of everyone who joins me for evening tea is out on a mission or otherwise engaged. I thought it more prudent to be alone in my room than alone in the canteen."

Obi-Wan chuckled under his breath and she watched him slowly approach the bedside table. He reached out and gently touched the jar that held the yellow flowers, but made no comment on their presence. He turned to smirk at her over his shoulder, his fingers falling away from the small glass vessel.

"You should have sought me out."

"I thought that, perhaps, you and Anakin were still training."

"Anakin and I finished our meditation a little over an hour ago; he was restless when we ended, so he ran off to go cause mischief some place or another. I made an attempt to follow him but he proves to be significantly hard to catch," Obi-Wan commented, lips pulling into a wry smirk. Obi-Wan turned back around and approached her, and seated himself on the arm of the sofa across from her. He crossed his arms over his chest and flicked his head to the side a little to banish hair from his forehead. His blonde locks had been steadily lengthening for the past two and a half months, and Elara decided that it rather suited him.

Elara laughed and pulled her legs onto the couch, crossing them in a well-practiced movement. She fixed the Jedi with a look, brows raised and lips slightly quirked.

"Anakin is well versed in disappearing when he doesn't want to be found. Once I searched the entirety of Mos Espa when he disappeared from my side on our way back from Watto's. When I got home, in a complete and utter panic, I found him holed up in his room with a droid arm in his lap." She laughed a little at the memory, recalling the smug look on her brother's face when she started to berate him for slipping off. Obi-Wan chuckled and rubbed a hand along his jaw, upon which some stubble had started to grow. Elara fixed him with a pointed look and leveled a finger in his direction. "Since you're looking after him now, my advice to you would be to look in the first place you would expect to find him, and then the last place; sometimes those coincide."

Obi-Wan nodded with a faint chuckle, a hand dropping to rest on his boot-clad ankle. "I shall mindfully heed your advice, Elara. You are, after all, our resident expert on Anakin Skywalker," he teased whilst quirking an eyebrow. This caused her to laugh again, reaching up to thread her fingers through her short hair. Elara narrowed her eyes playfully at the Jedi across from her and let her lips quirk to the side in a smirk that nearly mimicked his.

"I have to be. I'm his sister." After a moment her smirk faded and her expression became more somber. She picked at the fabric of her trousers and cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. "How is he? I… don't get the chance to see him terribly often. Or for long periods of time."

Ever since her training had become private, Elara had been particularly isolated from the daily goings-on of the Temple. She did not interact with the younglings on a daily basis anymore, and it was harder to catch those she knew at opportune moments. This also meant that she saw Anakin with increasing rarity. They would see each other at meals and sometimes they would get the chance to spend an evening watching the speeders zip by from one of the balconies, but more often than not, they went the majority of the day without seeing one another. That was difficult for Elara. For both of them, really. Anakin had spent the whole of his life with Elara close to his side; a cry away from jumping to his aid should he need it. It had been so long since Elara wasn't in her brother's company, and she missed it. Missed all of his curious inquiries and his little remarks and, yes, even his stubbornness. She knew that there would come a day when he would grow up and be able to look after himself––fight his own fights and the like––but Elara had never expected it to come so soon.

Obi-Wan stroked the stubble on his chin again whilst he watched Elara, sensing a faint sense of melancholy about her. Months ago, it would have been a flush of emotion that washed over the Jedi in a near overwhelming wave, but her training had helped lessen the intensity. She looked up at him with hopeful, expectant eyes, her lips pulled into a little frown.

"He is quick to learn just like yourself. There are occasions where he learns something new and becomes quite well versed in it by days end. Anakin does tend towards impatience, however, which does occasionally set him back. It is something that he will need to learn to reign in, and I have a feeling that it will take some time. But with time and practice comes mastery," he explained, waving a hand through the air with a gentle grace as he explained. Elara beamed at the positive progress her brother was making, and she reached up to toy with her padawan braid, which had garnered a new band of colored string. "And he misses you, just as you miss him. When he becomes distracted in his lessons it is the easiest thing for me to sense."

Elara smiled gently to herself and tugged on her braid a little. A strange mix of fondness and sadness pooled in her stomach; one of her fears had been that Anakin would find his independence a little too quickly and shirk her familiar protectiveness. It pleased her a little that he missed her. She was also aware, however, that it would be something both Anakin and herself would need to get used to. Their training was rigorous and it was highly unlikely their separate tracks would cross any time soon, if at all.

"Perhaps you would do the honor of accompanying me for a drink this evening. I do believe that you have yet to properly explore Coruscant and all it has to offer, and I would be honored to introduce you to its… lively… nighttime atmosphere," Obi-Wan offered. Elara looked up from her lap, brows furrowing at his suggestion. Slowly, a little smile started to twinge at the corners of her mouth, the offered activity an attractive alternative to spending a night alone watching the speeders rush by.

"Really?"

"Of course. You may be an expert on how to traverse Tatooine, but _I_ am an expert on traversing Coruscant. I promise that I won't allow you to get lost."

OOOO

Coruscant's nightlife was much like its speeder traffic––bright, colorful, lively, and quick. Elara gaped up at signs that glowed with bright colored lights and craned her head this-way-and-that to peer into establishments they passed by. Some had steam that flooded from the windows, smelling of delicious foods that Elara had never seen or smelled before. People milled about with a constant flow of energy, all going in different directions down narrow streets designed for foot traffic. She had never seen so many people in one place before. Never seen so many beings dressed in so many different styles of clothing; there were garments made of flowing fabric in rich earthy tones, and tight-fitting ensembles in colors that matched the neon lights above. Elara had never heard so many different languages being spoken all at once, creating a strangely beautiful mash of sounds. All of it was overwhelming but very exciting.

Obi-Wan remained dutifully at her side, gently guiding her towards their destination. Elara would feel his hand gently touch her back to maneuver her around a corner, or curl around her arm to pull her out of the path of a rushed pedestrian. He would patiently pause with her when something caught her eye, and drag her back to reality when she spaced just a little too much. It was Obi-Wan's guidance that Elara was incredibly thankful for. Without him there, at her elbow, she would have been hopelessly lost.

The cantina that they eventually slipped into was completely unlike the cantinas on Tatooine. It was bustling and lively, and many of its patrons were smiling happily. The walls were decorated with neon signs and hologram stations were set up at the back of the room, displaying images of various dancers of varying species. A band was clustered into the corner, playing upbeat music that sometimes swelled over and faded under the din on the establishment's crowd––it was nothing like the reedy music from Tatooine. The air was what reminded her of home; it was warm and a little humid and smelled of spilled alcohol. But it lacked the lingering smell of stale sweat and the musty scent that came from the fact most cantinas on Tatooine were underground. Elara sought out a table while Obi-Wan headed for the bar to grab them drinks.

Eventually Obi-Wan approached the table with two small glasses filled with a vivid blue liquid. One glass was sat before Elara and the other remained in his hand as he took a seat across from her. He raised his glass and gave a slight incline of his head.

"I hope you don't mind keela," he drawled with a little smirk. Elara offered a shrug and a smile, pulling the drink towards herself. She raised the glass, which was slightly warped on the sides to give it a curved look, and stared at the wobbling blue alcohol.

"I don't have a prefered drink, as I spent little recreational time in cantinas back home. I'm sure that I'll enjoy it," Elara assured. The two toasted delicately before they both took a sip. It tasted a little fruity, though the type of fruit she would not be able to pinpoint; the aftertaste had a bit of a kick, with the expected acrid taste of alcohol. With a little laugh, Elara took another small sip. "And enjoy it I do."

Obi-Wan beamed and expertly downed the rest of his drink, his head tilting back to allow the liquid to slip down his throat with ease. Elara made the executive decision to keep sipping at her own glass, as she was not well-versed with social drinking. There was never an occasion back home for her to ever do so; nor did they have the credits so supply a drinking habit. The last thing she needed was Obi-Wan carrying her completely inebriated person back to the Temple.

"If my memory serves, your brother mentioned that you worked in a cantina back on Tatooine, yes?" Obi-Wan inquired curiously. Elara nodded and sank her teeth into her bottom lip; it was a question that was like to come up at some point or another. It was a sensitive topic, yes, but it was one that Elara had known she would have to address at some point or another.

"I worked in a cantina for two standard years. Gardulla the Hutt owned both the establishment _and_ my family, so I had little choice. Anakin was too young and my mother wasn't young enough. Young, fresh faces bring in more customers, especially in a place where the majority of the population his weathered from head-to-toe by sun and sand. Those two years were the worst of my life. There were so many things you could do wrong and gain punishment from that giant glob of hatred. If you so much as greeted Gardulla wrong you would be punished. You could expect to be humiliated, beaten, and even have meal privileges taken away. Anything from a single meal to a handful of days," Elara remembered quietly. She could recall every detail of those hellish two years with frightening accuracy. With a shake of her head, eyes falling shut, Elara swallowed down the horrid memories and inhaled deeply. Utilizing advice Yoda had given her, she held that breath before exhaling all of the bad energy that had gathered in body. "Thankfully all of that is over and far in the past."

Obi-Wan had been listened to her with incredible attentiveness. Not once did he look away from her, and not once did he move to interject. Elara flashed him a quick smile before looking away and taking a long sip of her keela. It burned the back of her throat a little. She cleared it with a little sound and then turned her attention back to Obi-Wan. Again she smiled, this time a little longer and a little more genuine. He twisted his empty glass in a singular circle before he pursed his lips and inclined his head to her slowly.

"I am very glad you have escaped such a life. It is… atrocious that slavery is still so common in the Outer Rim, and that there are those that take advantage of that. I sometimes forget that you and your brother were slaves; there is… an optimism about you, Elara, that one would not associate with somehow who had to endure that sort of life," Obi-Wan commented. Elara shrugged, her shoulders relaxing a little and her expression becoming more gentle.

"We made the best of it. And we were better off than many we knew––those who were beaten and starved… those who hated the life so desperately they tried to run away before meeting their end in a fiery explosion of sand and limbs… The time we spent under Hutt rule was… a living nightmare. It was near a miracle when we were sold to Watto. He was not a kind being, but he also wasn't the most hellish one, either. I believe that the optimism is thanks to my mother. She always told Anakin and I that, one day, we would find a better life; she filled us with hope and unyielding love. And, well… look where we are now!" Elara was smiling fully now, raising her hands to gesture to her current surroundings––to the planet that she now called home.

Obi-Wan smiled at her from across the table. The look was gentle and kind, and very becoming on his handsome face. It was the first time that Elara truly experienced him in a nearly completely relaxed state; there was no life-or-death situation hanging above their heads, no overwhelming sense of grief gripping hold of him. He was smiling and as care-free as a Master Jedi could be, a smile gracing his mouth and his eyes gleaming brightly. It was a side of Obi-Wan Kenobi that Elara had not been privy to before––and wondered how many people _were_ privy to such a side of him.

"Look where you are," he agreed, a certain degree of fondness leaking into his tone.

The growing friendship that Elara and Obi-Wan had was a thing of complete uniqueness. It had been born out of a miscommunication and an apology, and strengthened through comfort and evenings over tea. There was still much they had to learn about one another, but it was undeniable that they had a unique bond. It consistently brought them together––in the canteen for tea, in the halls for a quick 'hello,' and, inevitably, it would drag them together for missions in the future. It was something neither of them fully understood, so much so they hadn't fully acknowledged that _something_ was there. Something that pulled one's attention to the other when they passed through a room, or look up if they thought they heard the other's voice. Something that had driven Obi-Wan to protect Elara in battle. Something that drew Elara to comfort Obi-Wan in a moment of pain.

A loud shattering sound tore through the cantina, slicing through the quiet moment between the two. A little startled, Elara craned her head around to search out the source of the sound; at the same time her glass of keela slid five inches across open table. It nestled itself into her palm, as she had subconsciously manipulated the Force in reaction to the surprising sound. Said sound had been an overturned tray of empty glasses shattering against the floor. Elara looked from the source of commotion to her hand, where she watched the keela slosh around inside the warped glass. She pulled her hand away and rubbed her fingers against her palm, as though she was ridding it of some unseen substance.

The movement of objects through the Force was a technique that one typically learned many, _many_ months into their training. One typically had to hone a very specific relationship with the Force first, learn how it operated and interlaced itself with everything in the galaxy. But the Skywalkers were a special case. Their relationship with the Force was unique, in that they had been _born_ from it. They'd had an intimate relationship with it since the very moment of conception, and it showed in their natural abilities. It was intriguing. Frightening, sometimes, but intriguing. Obi-Wan inclined his head to Elara, his eyes briefly flickering down to the glass that had moved moments ago.

"I'm impressed you didn't send that flying off the table; Anakin once accidentally hurled a chair across a room when he became too frustrated," Obi-Wan deadpanned with a wry smirk.

Elara snorted in laughter, imagining her brother with his adorably frustrated expression. He would get squinty eyed, his little nose would crinkle, and he'd end up pouting through a frown; to imagine _that_ face accidentally fling a chair across a room was an amusing picture to conjure.

"Anakin does have quite the temper, I should have warned you," Elara giggled. Obi-Wan arched both brows and leaned forward in the manner of a very exasperated man. She raised a hand to cover her mouth, hoping to stifle the laughter threatening to bubble up in her throat.

"That would have been helpful, yes, as I now spend morning till evening in his presence."

Elara burst into laughter at Obi-Wan's mocking––but clearly playful––tone. It felt nice to have a good laugh, which was something that she hadn't had for a little while. Some of the tension in her shoulders loosened when the shook with mirth. Across the table Obi-Wan gave a rare chuckle, eyes gleaming with amusement. She waved a hand to excuse her sudden outburst and then dabbed at a watery eye. Like the moments in the canteen swapping stories over tea, Elara caught a glimpse of how being a Jedi still allowed for a life. It wasn't always missions and danger and training; there were moments where one could be _more_ than a just a Jedi. Be a person who went out for drinks, shared a laugh over some tea, or sat down with a good bit of reading.

When the laughter subsided, Elara noticed that Obi-Wan's expression had become a little more somber. A crease had formed between his serious brows, and a slight down turn had started to tug at the corners of his mouth. It was a look just slightly more severe than the careful mask he wore on a day-to-day basis. It caused Elara to cock her head to the side curiously and try and parse out what had made his mood shift so suddenly. There was nothing in the air around him that betrayed his emotions, something that was a testament to his years of training. Pensive blue eyes rose to meet her own and Elara was struck with a gaze that was startlingly personal.

"In these past few months I do find myself… struggling a little, in regards to your brother. I have been training him as Qui-Gon trained me; however, Anakin does not approach his training the way that I did," Obi-Wan began. Elara leaned her forearms on the slightly sticky table bobbed her head in a nod to acknowledge she was listening. "There are moments when he becomes particularly frustrated that his temper flares; he, like yourself, is very rooted in his emotions. Very empathetic. Anakin has made it perfectly clear he has no qualms with expressing such frustrations, and when I attempt to address them, I do not always get a desired result. As his sister, I am sure that you have dealt with such episodes before and I wonder if you might… impart some of you wisdom to me."

Elara sank her teeth into her bottom lip and mulled over how to respond to the entirely genuine request. Shmi had always said that Anakin and Elara were much alike, but while Elara tended towards placating and being diplomatic, Anakin tended towards a temper and confrontation. Seeing as she had been at her brother's side nearly every day since he was a mere babe, Elara had picked up a trick or two on how to handle his outbursts. It wasn't always easy. It was rarely ever fun. But it was always necessary and she had pulled him from many an unsavory situation.

"Anakin has a nasty habit of tending towards confrontation. I couldn't tell you how many times I have had to drag him out of fights with men twice his age. He even started a street fight, once, with a kid nearly seven years his senior. If you try talking him down gently, explaining why it is he can't act such a way, Anakin will eventually calm down; he may not see reason, and he will surely gripe, but he won't be stomping about and swinging his fists," Elara offered. She then fixed him with a fiercely protective look. It was one that she had given many beings before, and would continue to give till she could no longer protect her little brother. "Do _not_ yell at him. As… _tempting_ as it may sometimes be, with the life that we've lived… yelling will make him either act up or shut down. Stern words in a gentler tone you can get away with. A raised voice with harsh words will get you nowhere. It's only been a few months; as time wears on, he _will_ get used to how you address his outbursts, and how you utilize discipline. This is the life he has always wanted. He _will_ listen to you."

Across from her, Obi-Wan nodded thoughtfully and scratched his fingers along his faintly stubbly jaw. He then inclined his head to her. "Thank you, Elara."

Elara bobbed her head in a nod with a gentle smile having pulled at the corners of her mouth. "You are very welcome, Obi-Wan. You know, I could always teach you Huttese; as guttural and generally terrible a language as it is, the familiarity of it may suit to calm him."

Obi-Wan quirked a brow and paired it with a wry sort of smirk. "That terribly guttural language has proved to calm him?" he inquired skeptically. Elara rolled her eyes and lifted her glass of keela, the liquid inside wobbling gracefully.

"It's a second language to us; you can't get away with living on Tatooine without knowing it. It may sound awful, but it's something familiar in a mostly unfamiliar environment. Not only that, it could save your life one day; the Hutts have a widespread system of bounty hunters and lackeys. You never know when you may end up on the wrong side of one of their blasters." The Tatooine native threw back what was left in the glass and then cleared her throat at the burning sensation it left behind. With raised brows and a pointed look, Elara lifted the now empty glass in acknowledgement. " _Jee panwa yocola._ "

The corner of Obi-Wan's mouth quirked upwards as the Huttese spilled from between her lips. He crossed his arms in that perfectly practiced manner and reclined into his seat.

"And what does that mean?"

"I said that I enjoyed the drink. I'll get us both another."

The evening wore on with the two continuing to share advice, teach phrases in new languages, and enjoy the other's company. Everything felt so comfortable and normal. It was an evening that provided a sense of newfound normalcy for Elara, and for that she was grateful. Previously, normalcy had been sudden sandstorms, Watto's biting remarks, and spending evenings staring into the sky with a longing gaze. Everything was exciting, now. From the endless thrum of life in Galactic City to the lessons Yoda taught her every day. Elara savored every moment of normalcy she experienced, now, instead of trying to block out its near mind-numbing repetitiveness. By the time the two returned to the Temple, the evening crowds had died down some and their bodies hummed warmly with the slight buzz from the keela. They parted ways to go to their respective rooms, each giving a fond wish for a pleasant evening of sleep. As they had turned away, Obi-Wan had uttered a slightly mispronounced set of Huttese words–– _me jewz ku, pateessa._ Directly translated as 'goodbye, friend,' Elara took it as 'good night.' And it would have been a lie if Elara had denied that she returned to her room with a bright smile pulled across her lips.

OOOO

Elara jogged up the steps and into the Temple, panting hard as her legs pushed her up each stair. Sweat beaded at her hairline and collected in the middle of her back, the layers of clothing becoming soaked with its dampness. It was perhaps one of the first times since leaving Tatooine that she had sweat so much. She had spent the majority of the afternoon running laps around and through the Temple at Yoda's instruction. He sat perched on her back in an almost basket-like contraption that was strapped to her torso. It was a form of training that she did not see other padawans enduring, but she was not an ordinary padawan, and she did not have an ordinary Master.

She was not allowed to stop moving. When she started to slow, her legs trembling from extraneous use, Yoda urged her on with the simple command of 'run.' If she ever stopped, Elara received a reprimanding tap on the head from the end of Yoda's walking stick. If he sensed her thoughts becoming distracted, he would urge her to focus on the feel of the Force moving with her, through her, and around her. It was repetitive. It was tiring. It was something she had to do. It was an exercise meant to emphasize that a Jedi's strength came to them through the Force. That no matter how tired Elara may have felt, or how terribly her feet or thighs ached, she could draw on the strength the Force offered to keep her pushing forward. It was an odd sensation when she drew on that strength. A sense of calm would wash through her body and any aches or strains would seem to disappear in a flush of cool energy. It made the harsh panting seem easier and her focus a little more sharp. It was an exercise Elara found herself doing almost every day, with the ever constant promise that, someday soon, it would get harder.

At the top of the Temple steps, Elara caught ear of a familiar bout of laughter. She stumbled to a stop, the soles of her boots shifting against the marble floor, and she sucked in an intoxicatingly deep breath. With the lack of movement and focus, the cool presence of the Force lessened and her legs started to ache once more. She leaned forward and braced her hands on her knees, aware of the displeased hum Yoda gave from her back. Anakin and Obi-Wan stood off to the side of the Temple entrance, smirking at her with amused eyes and cocky up-turns to their lips. Elara narrowed her eyes in their direction.

"You won't be laughing… when Obi-Wan makes you carry _him_ … on your back… when you're big enough…" Elara panted. Anakin's laughter ceased and he looked to his Master in mounting horror. His short braid waggled behind his right ear, the tuft at the end brushing the side of his neck; he swatted at it irritably. Obi-Wan's smirk grew smug and he dragged his fingers along his jawline contemplatively. One of his brows arched and a mild chuckle caught in his throat.

"It's not a bad idea, actually," Obi-Wan said in a contemplative tone. There was a sharp thwack as Elara felt the walking stick knock against the side of her head. She flinched a little despite the knock having been nothing but a short, sharp sting.

"Keep running, you must," Yoda insisted firmly. With a sigh of compliance, Elara pushed forward, straightening up as she started to move. When she was half-way down the main entry hall, which passed by in her periphery in blurs of marble and sunlight, Yoda gave another gruff hum. "Your emotions you have allowed yourself to become caught in. Relax you must. If in your emotions you become invested, the dark side will take hold. Clear your mind of questions and thoughts that will distract."

Elara bobbed her head in acknowledgement of his words, her lips pursing when she truly considered them. Reigning in emotion was a difficult thing. It was the hardest part of her training, as Yoda had predicted. Her connection with the Force was so natural and so strong, that it took very little for her to find it, grasp it, and utilize it. It was harder to keep emotions in check, to not let them influence her decisions and her reactions. Every day, Elara got a little better at it, though there was still much she had to do––many years of hard training and wholehearted focus. The concept that she could so easily slip towards the dark side was frightening. The concept that she, as someone who had been so emotionally rooted for so long, was more prone to that was terrifying.

"Stop you may." Elara came to a stop when she felt Yoda place a hand on the crook of her neck, breathing hard with a head that was just starting to spin. "No more will we train today." Elara craned her head to look over her shoulder, trying to catch a look at her Master's face. Her brows had furrowed and her mouth hung open a little as she greedily sucked in gulps of air.

"I can keep going," she attempted to insist.

"No!" he firmly replied. Elara's eyes fell shut and a flush of disappointment washed over her; a feeling so strong that it was likely Yoda had sensed it. She lowered herself to her knees and assisted Yoda in climbing out of the basket, which she then removed from her person. He hobbled around to stand before her, his face as firmly set as it ever was. He blinked his large eyes at her before pointing at her with a trembling finger. "Distracted you have become, and nothing will you learn in such a state. Far you've come, yes, but far you still must go. You must allow the Force to calm you, keep you strong; meditate on this and resume training tomorrow we shall."

Elara bent her head in acknowledgement, eyes falling shut against the golden light of the late afternoon, which flooded the entryway. "Yes, Master."

It was in that position she remained as she listened to the sounds of Yoda's retreating cane. When Elara lifted her head, she swept a hand over her forehead to rid it of sweat and rose to her feet. She clutched the basket in one hand and picked at the hem of her tunic with the other. The flush of disappointment returned, which caused Elara's face to crumple and her eyes to fall shut once more. It was a disappointment rooted in the fact that she had slipped up on something so basic to the Jedi order––clearing her thoughts, keeping her head straight. That was something she had come to do quite well. With a string of self-reprimanding words in Huttese falling from her lips, Elara opened her eyes. There hadn't been anyone around to witness Yoda's reprimanding, and for that she was thankful. There were already so many people who did not believe that she and Anakin would succeed, and such a scene would have proved to back their beliefs.

There was a strange pull in Elara's stomach, one that prompted her to stay put for a moment longer. Following instinct, she looked over her shoulder only to find that, at the far end of the entry hall, someone was watching her. Obi-Wan Kenobi was staring directly at her with furrowed brows and lips parted as though he wished to say something. His face was bathed in the warm late afternoon light, which highlighted how gold his hair appeared to be. It was apparent to Elara that, yes, someone _had_ felt that wave of emotion. It was clear that Obi-Wan, despite his distance, had felt her rush of disappointment and frustration. When it appeared that he might have been about to call out to her, to ask what happened or something of the like, Elara turned around and began to walk away. Her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment and her lips curled downwards in a frown. If there was anything–– _anything––_ that she wanted to hear in that moment, it was not Obi-Wan's voice. It was the howling winds of Tatooine's desert.

* * *

 **Huttese Translations**

 _Jee panwa yocola_ ––I enjoy this drink

 _Me jewz ku_ ––goodbye

 _Pateessa_ ––friend

(translated with the use of Ben Burtt's Star Wars Galactic Phrase Book)

* * *

 _ **Afterword:**_ _**This chapter kicked my ass. I realized that it is incredibly difficult to write Obi-Wan in a more casual setting, so the cantina scene took me nearly a week to properly write. But once I hit a stride, it started to come together a little more. I hope that no-one seems out of character!**_

 _ **Review Replies!**_

 **ZabuzasGirl:** _Sorry it took so long to update! Life in general became a pain and I hit a terrible creative block. But I've worked myself out of it and am eager to continue the story; I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_

 **Robinbird79:** _I feel like Jedi training is incredibly frustrating, and I want to portray that in the glimpses into Elara's training. I'm glad you think Yoda is a good choice for her; he has the discipline and attitude that will drive her to stick to rigorous training and keep pushing on. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **FlowerChild23:** _I hope that you stuck around for the new chapter, and will keep reading if your interest is still piqued. Thanks again!_

 **Sophia Kaiba:** _I'm gearing towards doing more Elara/Obi-Wan moments in upcoming chapters, prior to Attack of the Clones. I think it's incredibly important to build up their friendship before anything romantic even begins to happen. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **LoveFiction2017:** _Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!_

 **The Redshirt who Lived:** _I love writing fluff, and I adore writing fluff between Obi-Wan and Elara. There's something that's just so… warm about it. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! We've got a little fluff as well as a little bit of Yoda training. Thanks again!_

 **Singer of Water:** _Thank you so much! I hope that you stick around to read more and make more predictions. I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **we ride at dawn:** _I cannot thank you enough for your review. This is one of the most challenging stories I've decided to write, as Obi-Wan is a tricky character to write into this sort of setting, and I am incredibly happy to hear that I've been developing everything well. I'm incredibly flattered that you consider this one of the best SW fics that you've read; thank you so much! I really hope you enjoyed the new chapter._

 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967:** _Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!_

 **Guest 1:** _Thank you so much; it took forever for me to get out of a creative slump, but I'm back and very ready to write. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **Guest 2:** _New update! Huzzah!_

 **hanlue:** _Thank you so much! I'm overjoyed that you're enjoying the story, and I hope that you enjoyed the newest chapter just as much as the other ones. And, again, thank you for making that wonderful story request, I cannot wait to get around to writing it. Thanks again!_

 **moonlusth:** _I'm glad that you stumbled upon the story, and that you've been enjoying it so much. I hope that you stick around to read more! Thanks again!_

 **tooclosefortety:** _Thank you for taking the time to read my story and leave such a lovely review; I hope that you'll enjoy everything that I have yet to write! Thanks again!_

 **elekytra:** _Hello! I am very glad that you've been enjoying the story thus far, and that you look forward to everything I have yet to write. I'm extremely flattered that this is one of your favorite stories so far this year (and don't worry, it isn't abandoned, nor do I plan on abandoning it). I do have plans to continue writing into the original trilogy with a Luke/OC and hopefully a continuation from that into something for the Force Awakens. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **tinytrinz:** _The time and inspiration were finally right this week! I've felt a resurgence of inspiration for this story and am excited to keep on writing. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **danierys:** _I have every plan to continue till the very end! I have tons of ideas written out, and stories planned for the original trilogy and the Force Awakens trilogy as well. I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **sadpool:** _I had such a field day writing Elara's reaction to the forests, and have plans on doing other reactions for other things such as rain, snow, and the ocean. I love Rogue One. I adore it. And I haven't seen much of the animated Clone Wars, though I have some idea of what goes down and have seen a substantial number of clips from the show; I do want to write about Elara in the Clone Wars, but I don't know if it will have anything to do with the show just yet. And I do have plans for other Star Wars stories! I have a Luke/OC one I'd like to do for the original trilogy. I would also like to continue into the Force Awakens, if possible, but I need to see the next movie before making hardcore plans. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **vanessa:** _I have been working on this story since the day I last updated one of my other stories. I just… Casual Obi-Wan kicked my ass! Because you never really think about him in a setting outside of being a Jedi, so I had to figure out the perfect balance of casualness and Obi-Wan-ness. I hope that you enjoyed the story! Thanks again!_

 **Guest 3:** _I'd like to say I have a schedule, but I don't. Whenever I try to set one, life tends to screw me over and prevent me from sticking to it. However, I am glad that you've been enjoying the story, and I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 _ **And thanks to those who added it to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!**_

 _ **And that's that! We might do a bit of a time jump next chapter to help things along. I also highly urge any of you interested in Star Wars language's to check out Ben Burtt's book. It's absolutely fantastic, and it's feeding my need for Elara and Anakin to always be muttering things in Huttese. Anyways, thank you for being so patient, and I hope to update fairly soon! Thanks again!**_

 _ **~Mary**_


	9. Progress and Change

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize._

9\. Progress and Change

 _Illum, Unknown Region, Two Standard Years Later_

The ice caves of Illum were undeniably impressive. They were ancient and beautiful, curving in indistinct patterns, dropping into crevasses and rising in great, intimidating walls. Everything seemed to glow a shade of blue, despite the fact that the sunlight––if it was any––was distorted by miles of thick slabs of ice. Elara was stood in one of the curving tunnels, listening to the perfectly pure silence she was enveloped in. Every now and again there would be a faint cracking sound, but nothing would follow; no great slide of ice, no fracturing in the walls or floor. Everything was so peaceful. Everything seemed to hum with energy, as the ice was filled with innumerable kyber crystals, which all shone with a gentle blue light. The air was frigid and Elara had taken the time to exhale and watch her breath puff into the air in a little cloud of condensation; it had made her grin like a small child.

She had been wandering the caves for almost two hours, now, following an invisible path defined by faint tugs of the Force. Every step was firm, every turn was correct, and every drop or climb was meant to be made. Elara was on a quest to find a kyber crystal, one that would be integral in constructing her own lightsaber. She was there with Master Yoda and a handful of younglings who were preparing to become padawans; once again, her presence on the trip was strange due to her age and status as a fully established padawan. What constituted as her 'youngling training' had ended long ago, but she had been doing so many rigorous exercises in regards to control and channeling the Force that her lightsaber construction had been delayed. But the younglings had been excited she was coming along, begging her to tell them stories of the adventures she'd had thus far––though there had been few.

The search for the correct shard of kyber was very particular and steeped in tradition. They all had one rotation of the planet to find their crystal, and it could not be chosen upon pure whim. They had to be drawn to the piece of kyber––it had to reach out to them, call to them. Such was why Elara had simply been walking, keeping her mind as peaceful and clear as possible. Half past her second hour of looking, Elara came to a stop in a domed cave that glowed the gentlest of blues. Several new passages were available, and there was a smaller cave opening at the top of a slickery looking wall. The air was crisp and the slightest shuffle of her feet echoed against the rippling surface of the ice. She tipped the hood of her coat back, fingers tickled by the soft white fur that lined it. Elara sank to the ground and let out a slight hiss as her bare fingers fell flush to the ice floor. Not even the warmest coat or thickest gloves would be able to keep her comfortably warm; she blamed that on her upbringing on Tatooine. Her hands were red like a sunburn and had gone mostly numb. She crossed her legs and allowed her eyes to fall shut in order to take a new approach in her search. She would meditate, connect with the Force, and let that influence what path she took next.

Time seemed inconsequential as it usually did whilst meditating. Elara merely worked on exploring and then dismissing her thoughts, working through thoroughly until she eventually found an inner quiet and an inner peace. In that gentle state, she started to feel the barely perceptible shifts in the air around her. They were soft but quick, what with the living, Force-sensitive crystals scattered about her. She inhaled deeply and familiarized herself with the feeling, so she might be able to detect an anomaly.

There was a sudden pull in the center of her chest, and her eyes shot open. They were immediately drawn to the small opening she'd noticed earlier. _That_ was where she needed to go. Elara rose to her feet, slipped a little, and then approached the wall. There was a deep fissure sunk into the wall, which would easily work as a place to work her fingers and toes into. Thick gloves were extracted from her coat pocket and slipped onto her hands. She steeled herself and fitted her fingers into the fissure. The process of climbing was painstakingly slow, and her fingers and toes ached by the end of it all. Once Elara reached the top, she lay flat out on the ground for a moment, catching her breath. There was barely enough clearance for her to stand on her knees, and the alcove was shallow and fairly narrow.

Elara rolled onto her knees and sat back on her heels, facing the end of the alcove. There, at that end, there was another crack in the ice. In that crack, a crystal was rooted, glowing a vibrant blue. A grin spread across Elara's face and she crawled forward. Her knees slid easily against the ice, and before she knew it, she was the distance of her nose away from the thing. She bit the tip of her pointer finger and gave a jerk of the head, removing the leathery glove. The kyber crystal was pinched between her thumb and forefinger, and Elara took a moment to marvel and the lively energy that hummed in the small shard. A couple of wiggles and a tug pulled it loose from the crack. It rolled into Elara's palm and came to rest. The light faded and the crystal glittered gently in the light resonating from the cave walls. It was no longer than half the length of her forefinger and about the width of her pinky. It sat so naturally in her palm, and it felt so right. Elara curled her fingers around it and held that hand to the center of her chest; everything simply felt perfect.

OOOO

 _Fómhar, The Meridian Sector, Four Weeks Later_

Elara spun around and raised her arms to block the oncoming blow. There was a sputtered clash as the blade of her lightsaber barred Master Shaak Ti's energy blade from striking her. Sweat beaded at Elara's hairline, and a thin rivulet streaked its way along the side of her face. The Togruta woman she fought against kept a calm composure and moved with utter grace; every movement was effortless. Elara moved with grace, yes, but each swing was calculated just a little too carefully; and sometimes there was too much effort behind the swing. She consistently attempted to seek out Shaak Ti's next move in hopes to counteract it quickly. A sound of strained effort gargled in the back of Elara's throat as she attempted to gain the upper hand. The next thing she knew, Shaak Ti pushed a hand forward and a great pressure pushed against Elara's chest. The world went sailing past her for a split second. Then she hit the ground in a skitter of colored leaves. Her lightsaber deactivated and toppled from her hand, laying beside her uselessly.

It was the third time that day that she had been sent sprawling to the ground. The first time she had ended up half submerged in a stream, the cold water bubbling around her legs. The second time had her tumbling into a cliff-face. So at least there was something positive to the experience––the leaves weren't that bad. Falling, however, was never fun in any aspect.

Elara let out a puff of breath that nudged strands of hair away from her eyes. It was getting long again; she would need to trim it once they returned to Coruscant. She made a face as a leaf the color of gold tickled and scratched at her cheek. With another puff of breath, it was shifted away.

"You still think too much," said Shaak Ti. Elara groaned and pushed herself into a seated position, a hand going to her aching back. She stared up at the Jedi Master, who approached with measured steps. "You try to actively predict your adversary's next move and attempt to decide how to respond. Allow the Force to guide you towards the right movement, allow it to show you what to do. It shall not fail you."

The words were spoken gently and without malice. They were meant to aid Elara, who still had much training to do. Nothing about Shaak Ti's teaching––even the Force pushes––had been meant to harm or hinder. As if to reinforce the intent to aid, Shaak Ti offered a hand with a faint smile. With a gentle smile of her own stretched across her mouth, Elara swung a hand upwards and accepted the help. Once upright, she began to sort out her rumpled clothes. She straightened her obi and pulled at the hem of her tabard, which had gone askew from all of the moving.

"Has there ever been a moment in which the Force has successfully guided you in combat?" continued Shaak Ti. Without having to think for long, Elara nodded and extracted a leaf from her hair. It was bright red-orange, like the suns of Tatooine.

"When I fought on Naboo, I didn't have to think about what I needed to do next. Everything came to me so easily, so naturally… I was never steered wrong," Elara admitted whilst she picked up her lightsaber. She weighed the hilt in her hand, considering it fondly for a moment. "I suppose I've closed off my mind in my concentration. I need to keep myself open to the influence of the Force whilst I fight."

Shaak Ti inclined her head demurely. "A very perceptive observation."

The blaster fight in the hangar on Naboo still seemed so fresh. Elara could still recall the smell of oil and shorted-out wiring that wafted off the downed droids. She remembered the sounds of constant blaster fire. The sound of blaster fire was still so vivid, as was the hum of Obi-Wan's lightsaber as it cut through the air and deflect blaster bolts. The pull of the Force was just as memorable. The way she barely needed to search where to aim next––her head would turn, her arm would follow, and then she would shoot. Not once had she been steered wrong. It was because of the guidance that she was still alive and able to recall the events of the hangar battle.

"Perhaps we should return to the basics for a short while," Shaak Ti suggested. She removed the russet colored obi from underneath her belt and lifted it pointedly. The fabric was much more lightweight than Elara's own obi, displayed by the way it fluttered in the gentle breeze. "Use this to cover your eyes. We shall see if lack of sight will re-open your mind and allow you to accept the Force."

Elara took the strip of fabric and lifted it to her eyes; she wrapped it around her head and knotted it just beneath her growing padawan tail. She shifted the fabric around so it fit more comfortably across her eyes. The entire world was blacked out. With one sense optionally put out of commission, Elara inhaled deeply and absorbed the feeling of her surroundings. The breeze was soft and gentle and perfectly cool, which made for a perfect training atmosphere. The air smelled of fresh, clear water and the sweet tang of fallen leaves. The rustling sound of branches was gentle and proved to wholly soothe Elara. A cool sense of calm washed over Elara, just like she was standing in the forests of Naboo again. In one smooth movement, Elara raised her arms and activated her lightsaber. It was in that initial stance that she remained, legs braced and arms raised; she was determined not to move till she felt driven to.

It was there Elara stood for a few minutes, simply existing in the calmed world around her. She did not move. She did not speak. All she did was listen and feel. Eventually there was a sudden shift in the energy around her, centered at her left side. She swung her lightsaber towards the disturbance and both felt and heard her blade clash with Shaak Ti's. A small well of satisfaction started to build in her stomach, but instead of allowing it to grow, Elara inhaled deeply and pushed it down. When the pressure relented, she arked the blade to the right, where the sabers clashed again, and let instinct guide her as it swung back to the left as the clashed once more. During this, Elara had started to advance, her steps assured. She did not worry about tripping or falling or slipping––all she did was step where she felt was the best direction to step in. Every movement was quick and decided and guided by instinct. Her advances persisted and her attacks continued until Elara brought the lightsaber to a sudden stop, halting all movement. She caught her breath and remained still, feeling a note of finality fill the air.

"Remove your blinder," Shaak Ti instructed calmly. Elara removed one hand from her lightsaber and shifted the fabric up to her forehead; she blinked at the sudden influx of light, eyes scrunching shut briefly. Once the short stint of blindness faded, she saw why their sparring had come to an end.

Shaak Ti was backed up to the stream's edge, her heels partially submerged in the bubbling stream. Elara's lightsaber hovered a safe distance from her instructor's throat, the blue light of the blade bathing her throat in a cool tone. It symbolized that had they been in a real fight, Elara would have won, and Shaak Ti would have been dead. The corner of the Togruta mouth quirked up, a pleased gleam appearing in her kind eyes. Elara deactivated the lightsaber and took a step back, a smile creeping onto her face. For the first time during her formal lightsaber training, she had actually won a sparring session. All other times she had over thought every move and ended up––more often than not––on the ground with the energy blade of a lightsaber humming at her throat or chest.

The Tatooine native turned away to hide the purely delighted grin that had overcome her face. She reattached the hilt of her lightsaber to her belt, where it hung with a now familiar weight, and removed the russet obi from her forehead. It wasn't often that she felt so proud of herself; and when she did, she set that pride aside in favor of a calm acceptance of her achievement. This time, however, Elara allowed herself a moment to revel in it. It boosted her confidence and reminded her that the training was worth it, no matter how long it took, and no matter how many people believed she could not do it. There was still much to learn, and a long way to go, but progress was being made.

"It only took you a double fortnight to learn those forms and put them to use," Shaak Ti mused.

Elara's smile started to fade. She could not read into Shaak Ti's measured tone. She cleared her throat and allowed her brows to furrow, returning the Jedi Master's obi. A tremble of self consciousness rattled through her body, and Elara let her fingers wander the length of her padawan braid anxiously. "I wish I could have learned faster; surely there are other responsibilities you would much rather attend to."

It was not unusual for a Jedi Master to allow their padawan to train with another Master or allow them to attend them on a mission for a short period of time. Yoda had asked Shaak Ti to train Elara in the art of lightsaber combat; and the two women had been training at it for four weeks, on the planet Fómhar where it was a perpetual autumn.

There was a gentle chuckle as Shaak Ti resituated her obi. "Do not misinterpret my words, young one. I am not displeased with you; I am impressed with how quickly you managed to pick up the forms and realized how to use them. There are some who take years to even remotely understand the basics. It is true what they say––the Force is strong with you," Shaak Ti complimented.

Such a compliment eased the faint rattle of self consciousness she'd previously felt. There were those that believed that her extra sensitivity to the Force and her lack of training made her as dangerous as a charged and broken blaster. They were the most vocal with their opinions on her training. Then there were those like Shaak Ti and Obi-Wan who believed that the extra sensitivity would make them great Jedi one day. But the compliment always laid a new weight on her shoulders. It reminded her that there was a responsibility that came with those words, one that Elara was still unsure she was able to bear.

"Come," Shaak Ti cut into her thoughts. She brandished her lightsaber and took a defensive stance. "We shall spar once more, and this time, you shall remain unblinded."

OOOO

 _The Core World of Coruscant_

Coruscant now felt blissfully like home to Elara. Seeing its endless cityscape eased her stresses and worries, and a sigh of relief fled her whenever she set foot inside the Jedi Temple. The two years that she had spent with Coruscant as her home––or homebase, at least––had allowed her to familiarize herself with the planet's liveliness. She had been allowed a few chances to take a speeder into the lively streams of traffic that cross-hatched the planet's skies. It was from said sky, which was starting to streak with the colors of sunset, that Elara's ship descended. Once it touched down on one of the Temple's runways, she flicked all the proper switches, tapped the correct buttons, and allowed the ship to power down. The engines cut out and died with a gentle whirr, and the lights control console went dark. Elara gave the console a fond pat and nudged one last button.

The hatch disengaged and Elara hopped out with an easy grace. The cool evening wind ruffled her hair in greeting, and she took a moment to drink in the familiar peaceful atmosphere the Jedi Temple consistently provided. Her eyes had fallen shut and her head had tilted back in just the slightest.

"You appear to be relieved you're back," drawled a familiar voice. "I do hope Master Shaak-Ti did not wear you out too terribly."

Upon turning on her heel, Elara spotted Obi-Wan waiting at the foot of the Temple's marble stairs. Both arms were crossed over his chest in a relaxed manner and his lips were quirked into that smirk that she had declared, early on, would cause her trouble. A considerable period of time had passed since the two had seen one another; the last they had spoke was when Elara had seen both Obi-Wan and Anakin off for Anakin's very first off-planet excursion. That had been something close to seven months ago. Upon their return, Elara had been gone on her own expedition with Yoda––a lesson in deep meditation that he gave deep in the forests of Naboo. And every time after, they either completely passed the other by, were off planet at alternating times, or were on opposite ends of the galaxy entirely. Should they ever get the chance to see one another, it was often fleeting, and––more often than not––it was a quickly exchanged 'hello' or nod of the head as they hurriedly passed each other in a corridor.

Since their last meeting, Obi-Wan's hair had grown so the golden strands curled just behind his ears and flopped lazily against his forehead. Though the slight swoop of the way it fell spoke of an ongoing battle to keep it out of his face. What had once been stubble was now a fairly well-formed beard, and Elara thought it was very becoming on him. It made him appear distinguished, in a way. Though, that was simply a defining trait of Obi-Wan Kenobi––distinguished.

"I believe she wore me out just as much as she needed to; though, I could have done without the last couple of falls she dealt," Elara laughed. She started to walk towards him, the steadily more familiar weight of her lightsaber hilt shifting against her hip.

Once close enough, Elara wrapped her arms around the Jedi Knight's neck in a tight embrace. Many months ago, she would have felt Obi-Wan tense at the intimate gesture. A hug was something that created a display of close familiarity, and exceptionally close attachments were, of course, forbidden to the Jedi. As time wore on, however, he appeared to become more comfortable and decidedly less flustered. They rarely lasted long, usually lasting only to convey a happiness of the other's presence. She heard Obi-Wan chuckle and felt him start to shift. The gesture was returned by one of his hands appearing between her shoulder blades and the other––tentatively––at her waist. Elara's eyes fell shut and her smile grew a little wider. The Force bent around Obi-Wan in a very particular way, as it did around everyone; but around him the flow was calm, gentle, and buzzing lightly with warmth. It always proved to soothe her if she was feeling particularly frazzled, and she'd come to love the way it shifted around him. She was beginning to be able to recognize its shift from a considerable distance.

"I heard your call sign come in over the comms upon entering the atmosphere. I thought that I might come to greet you, as I have no engagements for the rest of the evening," Obi-Wan explained whilst they drew out of their embrace. Elara beamed at him and placed an endearing hand on his cheek, her palm tickled by his facial hair.

"Your face is one that I will always welcome to greet me," Elara told him wholeheartedly. She saw the corner of Obi-Wan's mouth quirk a little, forming the smallest of possible smiles; her own smile grew upon realizing he was also blushing. She offered a calculating look, eyes sweeping across the lower half of his face whilst she scrutinized his facial hair. "I think the beard suits you. Very distinguished, Master Kenobi."

A smirk rose to his lips and while she pulled her hand away, he lifted his own to run his fingers along either side of his jaw, to meet at his chin. A twinkle rose to his eyes, which had narrowed to allow a friendly crinkle at their corners. "Your compliment flatters me, Elara." Elara inclined her head and laughed a little. Obi-Wan motioned to her own head, his eyebrows arching. "I see that you are also allowing your hair to grow out a little more."

Elara groaned and threaded her fingers through the hair that had taken up the nasty habit of falling into her eyes. She shoved it back and responded in a wry tone of voice. "I only allowed it to do so because I did not have shears on Fómhar. I was planning on cutting it once I arrived back on Coruscant."

"I would be happy to assist, should you require it."

"Require it, no. I do, however, have a bottle of untouched Keela if you should like to share a drink with me."

"I would love nothing more."

Elara's quarters had become distinctly more homey as the years progressed. The bed was made with her own quirks––the blanket always a little rumpled, the pillows slightly askew. Her meditation dias had been shifted from the center of the living space to the wall of windows, where she often meditated at sunset, the warm light bathing her face. Everything about the room still appeared fairly standard, as the Jedi had few––if any––personal belongings. Elara still owned the green dress Padmé had gifted to her after the Battle of Theed; it hung pushed aside in her closet, a reminder of the start of her journey. A small table was located between all the seats, and on it was a smattering of metal pieces that looked to belong to the internals of a speeder. They were Elara's tinkering bits, and they were absolutely pristine. Old habits died hard, it would seem. There were also a number of small glass jars that dotted the room, all filled with flowers from planets that she had visited. Most of them had long-since dried out, their colors faded and their petals wrinkled and papery. But she loved them nonetheless.

There was a small, modest mirror that hung just outside her refresher room, and it was there that Elara stood with a pair of shears. She started to gently section off and cut pieces of hair, the strands fluttering to the floor. In the reflective surface, she could see Obi-Wan opening the clear glass bottle of keela, the vibrant blue liquid sloshing around as it was popped open. Splashes of the alcohol were distributed into two glasses, one of which he took while the other stayed on the small table beside her bed. He took a seat on the arm of one of her chairs, crossing one leg over the other.

"Shaak-Ti sent word that you excelled in your training; to only have a month's worth of training and be deemed proficient enough to return to the Temple is quite the feat, Elara," Obi-Wan commented. He then took a sip of his keela, watching her cut away at her hair.

Elara gave a mild shake of her head before shearing off a chunk of hair just in front of her ear. She threaded her fingers through her hair, checked its length, and went back to finding the next section to cut. "I'm sure that it isn't _that_ rare of an occurrence," she attempted to dismiss, shifting on her feet. Behind her there was a light-hearted chuckle, and a quick shift of gaze in the mirror revealed Obi-Wan smiling into his glass, eyes directed at the floor.

"You're merely being modest. Perhaps there are one or two finely skilled Jedi who mastered the forms of the lightsaber quickly––but they are few and far between, and we have not seen one so recently. You are truly making _remarkable_ progress," he complimented. His tone was wholehearted and it made a slight thrill run down Elara's spine.

She might have paid more attention to that shiver had she nod started to shift on her feet uncomfortably. Whilst compliments of her progress were reaffirming, Elara sometimes became overwhelmed by them. A lifetime of being told she was doing something wrong made compliments difficult to accept. After snipping off more hair, Elara gestured to the Jedi Knight with the shears, waggling the conjoined silver blades over her shoulder. They tinkled together gently as they shook.

"So, how is Anakin doing in regards to his own lightsaber training?" she asked in a highly upbeat tone, ardently attempting to deflect the attention away from herself. A quick glance and she caught Obi-Wan arching an eyebrow at her sudden, overactive cheeriness. She arched both brows and made a pointed clack of the shears, sending more hair tumbling to the floor. The Jedi Knight cleared his throat and righted himself a little. It was as though he was about to give an official report, Elara though whilst eyeing the crease that appeared between his brows.

"He is almost there. Another week, perhaps, and he will be on par with you. It's quite honestly astonishing how in sync you two remain despite your time apart. He has been training at the saber for two months, and his completion of his understanding almost _perfectly_ lines up with yours," Obi-Wan enthused gently.

A smile spread across Elara's face. She set the shears aside and ruffled her hair, turning her head from side-to-side to inspect the length. Then, as she usually did when cutting her hair, she shook her head vigorously and made sure none of it fell directly into her eyes. Behind her, Obi-Wan chuckled at her antics, which she ignored. Finally, she checked the tail at the back of her head, tightening the twine that held it in place, and ran her fingers along her padawan braid. It was longer, now, just brushing the top of her right breast, and a number of colored twine created different sections. The newest was a deep blue.

"We have always been close, and we tended to try and finish tasks at the same time. Perhaps it will forever be a lingering effect between the two of us," Elara started, bending down to sweep up the fallen hair into her hands. She discarded of it properly and shrugged, brushing her hands off on her thighs. The look she fixed Obi-Wan with was conspiratorial and playful as she sauntered towards her drink. "Or, perhaps, it is a side-effect from being the 'Chosen Ones.'" She shook her head upon speaking those words and snatched up her drink.

While she crossed to the couch, Obi-Wan shook his head and peeled a finger away from his glass in order to point at Elara.

"You say that jokingly, though I think there might be truth in your statement. You and Anakin have _such_ a profoundly close bond, one that is only strengthened by the Force. You are linked by it. Perhaps that link, made so strong by your early life experiences, continues to connect you across the distance that separates you. Because you are so bonded, perhaps that means as _you_ learn, he learns, and vice-versa. I believe you two may share an incredibly strong Force bond," Obi-Wan suggested, shifting to sit in the chair, rather than on its arm.

Elara quietly contemplated his words, slowly maneuvering her way to the chair that faced opposite his. She took a long sip from her glass, letting the vaguely tangy alcohol slide across her tongue. Both of her brows rose upon her final turn-over of Obi-Wan's words. She looked to him and gave a quiet little laugh, her shoulders trembling with mirth.

"I honestly never even thought of that. That could put an explanation to a lot of things…" Elara murmured.

"It tends to happen between Masters and Apprentices most often. But a Force bond between brother and sister only makes sense, especially one this powerful. If you two are ever to fight in battle side-by-side… sharing in each others strengths…" Obi-Wan chuckled and shook his head, beaming brightly as he considered the idea. He raised his glass as though toasting something. "You would be a force to be reckoned with."

Elara smirked and mimicked Obi-Wan's lifting of the glass. The two silently toasted each other with matching smiles and took drinks from their respective glasses. The thought of _actually_ fighting made Elara gnaw at her bottom lip. It reminded her that _that_ was what her training was all leading up to; it wasn't play fighting, like when she and Anakin were young. It was genuine combat techniques that could potentially save her life one day. Save the life of _others_ one day. That was simultaneously terrifying yet… thrilling.

Obi-Wan set his glass aside and extended his hand. "May I see your hilt?" Elara removed the lightsaber hilt from her belt and passed it to him. He inspected the hilt closely, scrutinizing it with cool eyes; he turned it over and slid his fingers along it before he weighed it in one hand. Both brows rose in a pleased manner and he inclined his head to her. "Well made, well balanced. Congratulations."

A laugh bubbled from Elara's throat and she took the hilt back, gently rolling it between her hands. "Thank you. I nearly froze my fingers off for the crystal."

"We shall have to spar some time; I would like to see just how far you've truly progressed."

Elara scoffed heartily at the suggestion and stood to go refill her glass. She pointed at Obi-Wan as though he was being ludicrous and shook her head whilst the scoff turned into a laugh.

"Oh, no, you would knock me flat in a minute."

Obi-Wan let out a flattered chuckle and reclined into his seat, looking a little self-satisfied. "There is no possible way to know that unless you try to beat me. Besides, you _should_ spar with other established padawans, Knights, and even Masters if they have the time. It will give you the chance to learn other techniques, personalized little tricks that someone's developed… develop some of your own." He finished off his glass and stared at it as he tilted it from side to side. He smirked. "And I have every confidence you could beat me… eventually."

A smile spread across Elara's face as she capped the bottle of keela and picked up her now re-filled glass. Her other hand curled around the neck of the bottle and she spun around on her heels. She pointed at the man seated a short way aways and narrowed her eyes playfully. Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow in silent response, quietly waiting for her to speak.

"There are not many things I know Obi-Wan Kenobi to be openly cocky about. His greatness as a Jedi Knight? Of course not, he is wonderfully humble. But lightsaber combat… _that_ is what Obi-Wan allows himself to be a little cocky about," Elara teased.

Obi-Wan grinned and laughed heartily, the warmth of the sound filling the room wonderfully. His laugh was something that Elara had grown to love. It was comforting and joyful and it made her happy. It prompted a quiet bout of her own laugher as she returned to her seat, setting the keela bottle beside Obi-Wan's empty glass in open invitation. The man offered a contented sigh and he shifted forward to refill his glass.

"I do take pride in my combat skills, though not so much that it would cloud my judgements and decisions."

A roll of the eyes shifted Elara's gaze to the other side of the room; a chuckle escaped her mouth and she muffled her next words with her glass. "You were cockier when we first met."

There was a surprisingly graceful snort, and Elara watched Obi-Wan take an almost regal sip of his keela. His smirk returned full force, and his lips parted as he briefly searched for the correct words to say.

"I was younger then," he dismissed, tone light and playful. Elara arched an eyebrow gracefully and mimicked his smirk.

"So was I."

The two locked eyes and held the other's gaze. For whatever reason, neither party wanted to look away or break the contact first. Elara, for the first time in two years, recalled how dangerously easy it was to become lost in the blue of his eyes. A blue that reminded her of the crystalline lakes on Naboo, so perfectly clear and cool. Their gaze was thoughtful and concise, always gently mulling over some thought or another. To have them staring at her so intently, as though trying to decipher her thoughts as she was attempting to do with his, made her heart leap. It was a strange sort of jump, one that caught her breathing a little heavier than before––but only for that brief moment.

The two years that had passed since their meeting on Tatooine felt much longer. A lifetime, almost. Much had changed, and most of it for the better. With Elara's training, her emotional output through the Force had lessened in intensity; it was still present and detectable, but not so blatantly as it once had been. At the start of it all, it had always rushed over Obi-Wan in intense ocean-like waves. With two months of training it had become better, the intensity becoming something more akin to gentle bumps of emotion. Now, with two _years_ of practice, her slip ups––though still fairly frequent––were like passing brushes that lingered just a little too long. They caused gentle twinges in the Force, still detectable but no longer overwhelming. The training and experience that she'd had in those two years had proved to broaden her view of the galaxy and her place in it. While there had been a distinctive maturity to her before her time at the Jedi Temple, it seemed to have grown stronger. It was quite clear to Obi-Wan that the older she became, and the more experiences she had, Elara Skywalker started to become more and more of a Jedi.

In those two years, Obi-Wan had changed just as much. Whatever quasi-cockiness that Elara had sensed in him two years prior had waned, as she predicted, with each passing year. The self-assuredness that he carried about him like a cloak was still there, but it was no longer misconstrued as arrogance or smugness. The expectations and weight that accompanied the title of Jedi Knight proved to mellow out the seemingly cocky aspects of his personality. If there was ever someone who embodied––or was beginning to embody––just what Elara thought a Jedi should be, it was Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was dedicated to the ways of the Order, he was a wonderful teacher, and he was perfectly kind and diplomatic. He had mentioned before that the learning process was never truly over for a Jedi; that becoming a Jedi Knight was truly the start of one's Jedi education. In taking on the responsibilities of a Knight, one would learn the true complexities of being a Jedi. Obi-Wan was currently on that path, still learning, and he was making wonderful progress.

Elara became the first to look away, her lips quirking up at the corners upon their own volition. There was something at the back of her head that told her that one day staring at Obi-Wan so intently would get her in some sort of trouble; and why that prompted a smile confused her. She lifted her glass in a toasting motion.

"To change, then," Elara offered brightly. Obi-Wan smiled, eyes crinkling endearingly at the corners, and raised his glass to her toast.

"To change."

OOOO

Obi-Wan strolled back towards his own quarters after approximately three or so hours of conversing with Elara. The skies of Coruscant were blanketed by night the constant pulse of speeder traffic lit up the horizon in a colorful haze. The Temple was filled with a blissful, pure, meditative silence. Most had turned in for the evening, leaving the corridors empty or sparsely populated. The quiet meant that the Jedi Knight's footsteps echoed gently as he padded across the marble floors. The calm atmosphere allowed Obi-Wan to become lost in his thoughts. His feet carried him on the correct––but slow––path across the Temple whilst he contemplated his evening.

A distinctive ease had formed between himself and Elara. Once the two had overcome the rocky start of their friendship, they spoke as though they'd known each other for years. Lulls in conversation were rarely tense or awkward. Obi-Wan found such pleasure in discussing things with her, anything from the smallest details of their days to larger, more philosophical topics regarding the Force. Her point of view on such topics were so incredibly unique, given her unique circumstances. As Elara had lived the first twenty years of her life as any other citizen of the galaxy would, her views were not so heavily influenced by the rules of the Jedi Order; and that was not necessarily a terrible thing. In fact, he thought it was a wonderful thing. It prompted him to look at things from a different perspective, explore it, and understand where that perspective was coming from. It made for wonderful conversation that often naturally progressed into a heated debate––absent of any aggression–– or into light hearted banter.

Obi-Wan found immense pleasure in sharing such evenings with Elara, their words often exchanged over tea. When their conversations strayed from the philosophical or political, they exchanged personal stories. It had come to the point Obi-Wan felt as though he'd known the Tatooine native for the whole of her life, and he could not picture a time when he did not know so much about her. The landscapes of her life seemed so vivid to him, and at times it seemed as though he felt them as well. He could feel the heat of the double suns, the sting of sand on his skin, and the flush of emotion as Elara described diving behind a cantina bar during a bounty hunter's shoot out. Obi-Wan wondered if the Force had anything to do with that. It had become apparent that the Force flowed easily between them, merging and joining in such a way that made him curious; it made him wonder if she, too, felt as though she experienced the stories that he told her.

It occurred to him, as he paused outside his quarters, that Elara Skywalker was perhaps the second person he had ever felt wholly and truly close to. Qui-Gon was, of course, the first; his Master had known him so very well and Obi-Wan felt that he knew him just the same. He was getting there with Anakin, and he did not doubt that the two would bond quite strongly. With Elara, however, their bond had been almost immediate. It was evident the moment they first shook hands. Though there was a considerable amount of tension between them at the start, it had ebbed away quickly and left them with a uniquely formed bond that Obi-Wan had yet to fully understand. It seemed to grow and mature as they did. Where they were once amiable acquaintances that shared conversations when the opportunity arose, they were now familiar friends that active sought the other out for company. Elara often came to him with frustrations that stemmed from training, voicing what she felt she couldn't say to Yoda. He would listen intently and offer advice, and they usually ended up meditating beside each other for a short while. In the moments Obi-Wan felt like a wide-eyed young man far out of his depth in regards to Anakin, he would seek Elara out and ask for her advice. She would give it easily while they walked the promenades of the Temple, smiling as she would recall moments she, too, felt out of her depth with her brother.

Obi-Wan had started to wonder if this was the start of a Force Bond. As he had mentioned to Elara, Force Bonds were not uncommon. Such bonds between Master and Apprentice made perfect sense, as they often fell in-tune with one another from all of their years training side-by-side. It made sense that Elara and Anakin were so strongly bonded, as they were brother and sister, facing adversity and hardship together for most of their lives. Obi-Wan had not known a Force Bond to appear so rapidly as the one he believed may be beginning to form between himself and Elara. In most cases, it took a number of years––not just two. It would suggest their bond had started the minute they had stepped into each other's presence. This, however, was merely a suspicion. Only time would tell just what the bond between the two was and would yield; and Obi-Wan would only quietly admit to himself that he quite looked forward to discovering what the future held for them.

 _ **Afterword:**_ _**Approximate ages in this chapter would be Elara at 22, Obi-Wan at 24, and (the unpictured, but mentioned) Anakin at 12.**_

 _ **Alright. So I was gone for a while because life body slammed me with some unpleasantness and a whole lot of writer's block. But thanks to both Battlefront II and The Last Jedi, my inspiration for this story has returned full force and I have been working on finishing this chapter for the last couple of days. I didn't know quite where to go with it, but I knew I wanted to showcase how Elara is progressing in her training, and how she and Obi-Wan are interacting as they get older and more familiar with one another. We're starting to see more of the Obi-Wan we know and love––that distinguished, well-spoken, calm Jedi.**_

 _ **Review Replies!**_

 **ZabuzasGirl:** _Yeah, I drew from Luke's training montage for Elara, because I figured 'hey, Yoda must have used it before!' I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **danierys:** _I plan on continuing this story till the end, and then tying it into the original series, where another story will begin. I'm planning a completely insane tangle of stories that all tie into each other through the newest trilogy. So we'll see how it all goes! Thanks again! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_

 **moonlusth:** _I've never had anyone call one of my stories addicting before, and I'm flattered that you've called it as such. I apologies for the tardiness of the chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! Thank you again!_

 **hanlue:** _I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter! I'm sorry it's taken so long, but life decided that I needed to take an unforeseen break. And I still adore the request you sent; and I've gotten more ideas for it, which have already been written down and will be ready to be elaborated on. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!_

 **tooclosefortety:** _I am extremely happy that you enjoy the way I write the characters; it always takes me a minute to figure out how to translate words in my head into the way Obi-Wan speaks. He is so well-spoken. And mannerisms and such are always fun. I hope that you're still reading! Thanks again!_

 **Robinbird79:** _The scene from Attack of the Clones inspired the cantina scene from last chapter. It's painfully clear that Obi-Wan's had quite some practice in the drinking scene, and I just had to capitalize on it! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter; thanks again!_

 **XBnemesisX:** _Fluff is so much fun to write, and I love writing it between Obi-Wan and Elara. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **Faron Oakenshield:** _I always really like to write the build up to the romantic relationship in a story. I've always a lot of fun to write the 'almost' moments and see how it will uniquely stem given the circumstances; and these circumstances for Elara and Obi-Wan are pretty damn unique. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter, and thank you again!_

 **LoveFiction2017:** _Thank you! If you're still around, I hope you enjoyed the new one!_

 **vanessa:** _Thank you! Casual Obi-Wan is a bitch to write. Because I feel like casual Obi-Wan is a little more sassy, with a bit more drawl to him, which is strange to write as the character becomes the more distinguished, older Obi-Wan we are all familiar with. But I'm glad that he's reading well! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter!_

 **Guest:** _Thank you so much and I am so sorry for the lack of updates. Life really gets ya, you know? I hope that you enjoyed the chapter, if you've stuck around! Thanks again!_

 **sadpool:** _I'm glad that you're still reading! I hope that you enjoyed the chapter just as much as the last ones; and I'm always happy to reply/talk :) Thanks again!_

 **LealovesMokuba:** _Thank you so much! I hope you've stuck around to keep reading!_

 **amrawo:** _I look forward to writing more that you can read! I hope that you enjoyed the newest chapter; thanks again!_

 **AnneDance1711:** _I don't know how I'm going to tackle the Clone War era of this story. Because I want to and definitely want to include snippets from that period of time, as it is quite integral in many different ways. However, I haven't watched much of the show––I've only seen a handful of episodes and only know so much about it (though I do know about Satine). If you have any suggestions for episodes or story arcs, please, let me know so I can give them a good look! Thank you again, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_

 **heroherondaletotherescue:** _Thank you, friend! I hope that you've enjoyed the newest chapter just as much as the last ones!_

 _ **And thank you to those that had read/added this to follows/favorites; it means a lot!**_

 _ **So, I'm going to be going into an absolutely HELLISH month. It isn't going to be pretty for me, as this is going to be my toughest semester of college thus far, with added in stress from other outside sources. So, if you don't hear much from me in a month, be assured I will be back to this story, as I love it too much. I plan on making serious headway with this one, as I have so many plans. Thank you all for being so lovely and so patient! You're the absolute best!  
~Mary**_


	10. Your Truest Guide

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize._

10\. Your Truest Guide

 _Four Standard Years Later_

The Force was what connected everything in the universe. Be the energy flow light or dark or somewhere in between, everything was connected to each other. Discovering how they were connected, and how the Force flowed between them was truly a wonder; it was something that Elara found beautiful. The way the Force met and combined and flowed together was so unique and interesting. Because everything existed differently, that meant the Force existed differently around said object or person. Something that glowed with lighter energy flowed easily with something of an equal energy; but when something was darker, the energy would buzz dangerously but continue to flow with surprising ease nonetheless. It was something that she always marveled at in her meditations, which she no longer avoided doing. In fact, she had taken to meditating with increasing frequency, and often would lament when the opportunity was snatched away from her.

The state of the galaxy was riled and tense, and the Jedi were beginning to feel the strain of such tensions. Their presence was needed more than ever in order to keep the peace and the balance of the universe. There was talk of certain solar systems wishing to secede from the Republic. And once a certain system declared their intent, a new one would as well. Jedi Knights and padawans alike were consistently traveling across the galaxy to meet with politicians and the like in attempts to placate them; to, at the very least, insist that they hold off voicing their judgement till they were absolutely sure. Absolutely convinced.

With such stresses abound, meditation was a wonderful solace. Elara, herself, had been on several peacekeeping missions with Master Yoda, and had also sat in on a handful of meetings with senators just the same. It was astounding how easily the senators became heated and how often mediation was needed. The more diplomatic side of the Jedi was something that Elara had only had an inkling about at the start of her journey––and now she was becoming quite well-versed in it. Obi-Wan had made a fleeting comment that Qui-Gon had said that she was excellent at placating sticky situations; and that the deceased Jedi Master would be proud to see her putting such skills to work. The compliment had brought a smile to Elara's face whilst simultaneously pulling on her heart strings.

There was a gentle hum across from Elara, a familiar gruffness to its intonation.

"Quiet during meditation your mind has become. Impressed I am at your progress," hummed Yoda.

Elara gently took in a breath, and upon the exhale allowed her eyes to open and end her meditation. She was greeted by the sunlight that bathed the Temple courtyard they were sat in. A graceful smile had appeared on her lips. Yoda only complimented her when he felt she had accomplished something; he was a rigorous and particular Master, but he was thorough and decided and good at what he did. She had been meditating with him for six years, now, and it was the first time he had truly commented on her progress in said area. He, too, had come out of his meditation, and there was a trace of a smile on his aged lips. Elara inclined her head to him respectively.

"Thank you, Master Yoda," she replied.

Yoda shut his eyes gently and bobbed his head, acknowledging her gratitude. When those wise, wide eyes opened again, he met his padawan's gaze. They had come to know one another quite well over the years, even if most of her off-planet missions were conducted with other Jedi Masters or Jedi Knights––Master Plo Koon always seemed happy to have her along. Whenever she was on-planet they would train rigorously. Sometimes Elara would spar with a fellow padawan under his supervision whilst he would offer advice. Other times they would meditate or have in-depth discussions regarding the Force and questions she had regarding various related topics. He rarely went easy on her and she never asked him to lighten the load. Yoda was determined to make sure she was guided along the right path and didn't make a single misstep. Elara was dead set on becoming the best Jedi she could be, despite her late start in the process. Both of them were determined and decided, and that made their match as Master and Padawan perfect.

"My apprehensions, I had, when I agreed to train you. Dangerous I believed you to be, more prone to the darker side of the Force I worried you were; but determined you are to stay strong and loyal to the light. Admired your strength is, by all of the council. By myself. You are making good on the promise you made to me on Naboo. Very hard you are working. Proud at how far you have come, I am," Yoda told her. She had long since become accustomed to his odd way of talking, and now smiled at the younglings who seemed thrown off by his speech patterns.

Elara's lips curled into a small smile, and a warm flush of happiness washed through her body. "Thank you, Master. I will forever be grateful that you agreed to train me; I would not have been able to embark and continue on this journey without you," she thanked, once again inclining her head.

The two had been meditating beneath the Great Tree, an ancient Force Sensitive tree that grew at the heart of the Coruscant Jedi Temple. The tree's gnarled trunk was rough and knotted in places, and its branches extended towards the sky, leaves rustling and shifting gently overhead. It was the single most peaceful place to meditate at the Temple, in Elara's opinion at least. The courtyard was always quiet, save for the moments when other Jedi, padawans, or council members would meet in order to talk. It wasn't an odd occurrence to see people meditating before the tree, and everyone always respected those who did; planned conversations would be moved elsewhere and everyone would remain quiet, or sometimes join whoever was meditating. Yoda insisted, as of late, he and Elara meditate before the Great Tree, as he believed the tree's great influence in the Force would help influence and guide her. Whether that influence took, Elara did not know, but it had helped calm her frazzled nerves upon returning from stressful peace talks.

"Ah, Master Yoda," intoned a new voice. Both Elara and Yoda looked towards the source of the voice and found both Chancellor Palpatine and Senator Bail Organa strolling through the courtyard. It wasn't strange to see members of the Senate at the Temple––not recently, anyways. Bail was smiling kindly whilst his companion's face remained in its typical diplomatic mask. "I was hoping I might find you here; though I do hope we are not interrupting anything."

Yoda picked up his staff and utilized it to stand, grunting with the effort it took. He clasped both hands atop the gnarled length of wood and leaned his weight upon it, gazing at his padawan. "Interrupting, you are not. Finished with our meditation we are."

Elara uncrossed her legs and rose to her feet, adjusting the traditional brown robe that hung about her person. She inclined her head to the new arrivals, a gentle smile apparent on her face. In the last year or so Elara had become familiar with a handful of senators; including Padmé, who had taken the position after a new queen was appointed on Naboo. She know most of the senators by name, now, and she made a point of addressing them with such familiarity.

"Senator Organa. Chancellor Palpatine," she greeted politely.

Bail inclined his head and smiled, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners. Exempting Padmé, he was the kindest of the senators she'd met. He always went out of his way to greet her whenever they passed each other by, be it in the Temple, the Senate Building, of the Senatorial Apartments. If there was time and they found themselves in the other's company for an extended period of time, they would converse on topics varying from political matters to things as basic as the weather. Through these talks Elara had discovered that Bail hailed from the royal family on Alderaan, though he was trained to take the family seat in the Senate––not necessarily the crown––and that he had a wife named Breha, who was Queen of Alderaan. Likewise, Bail was told of Elara's life on Tatooine and the journey of how she came to be a padawan.

"Elara Skywalker, it is a pleasure to see you as always," Bail intoned kindly.

Elara's experience with the Chancellor was distinctly different. When she had first encountered Palpatine, he was a senator; during the invasion of Naboo, the Supreme Chancellor at the time had been removed from his seat and Palpatine had been elected to take it. Now he governed the Galactic Republic from his comfortable seat in the Senate District of Coruscant. Elara was fairly familiar with the Chancellor, as he often called up on Yoda for meetings, which Elara was allowed to stay for. She did not know him so familiarly as Bail, but they were known to share conversations here and now, though they were mostly hampered by professionalism. He was a man whom was very assured in himself in the most stoic of ways, and sometimes that put Elara off.

In greeting, Palpatine merely bowed his head without any words to accompany it.

"I was hoping we might speak, Master Yoda. We have just come from a meeting of the Senate, and there is much we must discuss," the Chancellor said.

Yoda nodded his head and gestured to the exit of the courtyard with the bottom of his staff. "To my quarters we will go, and discuss what you wish. Come."

The group began to move towards the Yoda's quarters, with the small but mighty Master leading the way whilst he spoke with Bail in quiet tones. Elara walked in step with Palpatine, the two remaining silent for the first portion of their walk. It was as they entered the temple that a conversation was struck up.

"I have been told by members of the Jedi Council that you and your brother have excelled in your training," Palpatine informed, his voice lofty. He turned his head a fraction to regard the padawan, and he offered a slow nod of approval. "I am pleased to hear of such news."

"Thank you, Chancellor," Elara replied, voice evenly composed as it usually was when she spoke with him.

"The Jedi Order should consider themselves lucky that they will have two such powerful members, when the time comes that your are properly inducted. They will need all the help they can get with the shifting political climate."

"As tensions grow we do find ourselves spread thinly, yes. The success rate for our missions, though, remain high so at least we're managing to uphold our duties. Though every padawan that gains the title of Knight aids in giving a growing relief; Jedi Knights can do more without requiring the company of another. It allows us to go farther, do more," Elara stated.

"And the stronger the Galactic Republic will be thanks to Jedi like you," Palpatine intoned. The corners of his mouth had raised, though the smile did not quite reach his eyes, Elara realized. He turned his head just-so and offered another slow, but slight, nod. The smile might not have reached his eyes, but there was something eyes there; a faint gleam of emotion that Elara could not properly put a name to.

A slight laugh pulled from the Tatooine native's mouth and she shook her head at the use of the word 'Jedi.' "I am not a Jedi. Not yet anyways. As you mentioned before, I'm still in training; and there is much I still must learn under Master Yoda's guidance."

Palpatine and Elara paused to allow a group of Jedi––headed by Plo Koon––to pass them by. Elara and Plo exchanged a nod in greeting. The brief pause put a couple feet of distance between Bail and Yoda, and Elara and Palpatine. When they resumed walking, she heard Palpatine give a contemplative hum, and he raised his chin a little, making him look a little more aloof than he naturally did.

"I know that, in your heart, you are a Jedi. The given title of Padawan Learner is merely a… courtesy," Palpatine suggesting, his voice rising slightly in pitch on the last word. Elara's brows furrowed and her lips pulled down at the corners. "The Jedi are strict regarding their titles, however, so you must conform to such ways. Just know that your heart is your truest guide; it always know what you want most, what is best for you. But who am I to give advice?" He laughed and smiled broadly, turning so he could look at Elara straight-on. "I am merely an old man with no experience in the ways of the Jedi. All I wish is to see you reach your fullest potential, Elara."

Palpatine placed a hand on her shoulder, where his fingers gave a squeeze. It remained there for a couple steps before it dropped and joined his other hand at the small of his back. Elara turned her head to face forward and blinked as his words invaded her ears. They chattered loudly there, annoyingly loud. She could still feel his hand on her shoulder, heavy and strangely controlling. There was something in the way Palpatine had kept steering comments towards herself and Anakin's supposed prowess that made a twinge of discomfort work its way down her spine. Elara wanted to shrug it off as it being her aversion to compliments acting up once more. But something in her chest remained tight and wouldn't let Elara shake the feeling.

When Elara gave small shake of her head to clear it, she just caught ear of what Bail and Yoda were discussing up ahead.

"…The tally of systems that wish to separate themselves from the Galactic Republic is concerning––nearing the thousand mark. We fear that, as more declare their wish to secede, the numbers will climb," Bail was saying, gesticulating with a serious hand. Yoda hummed in acknowledgement of his fear, nodding his small green head.

"And talks, you wish to hold, with conflicted systems?" Yoda guessed.

"Yes. And I know it is asking much, as your Jedi are already working so hard, but if I were to give you a list of the systems that need to be monitored or talked to the soonest…"

"Discuss this, we will, and then to the council will I take the proposal." Yoda came to a stop and turned to gaze back at his padawan and the Chancellor. "Not needed are you for this meeting, Elara. Clouded your mind has become and meditation you should return to."

Elara gave a nod and bent forward at the waist slightly in a minor bow. Her padawan braid swung by her cheek, caressing it with a teasing gentleness. Where once his very public criticism might have embarrassed her, it no longer did––because he was right. "Yes, Master. I wish you a good afternoon, Senator." Bail inclined his head. Elara turned to the Chancellor, who was again watching her with that gleam in his eye. She quickly directed her eyes at the floor and offered a respectful incline of the head. "Chancellor."

The three men disappeared around the corner, voices fading as the distance between them and Elara grew. She listed sideways to brace her shoulder against the wall. It was disconcerting how quickly that man had been able to cloud her head. It had seemed to her that he was indirecting telling her to contradict what her training had taught her; a Jedi was not supposed to allow emotions to rule their decisions, yet Palpatine insisted she should. But he was not her Master. He was not a Jedi, as he had said. It was meant as friendly advice, she supposed. Elara shut her eyes and took a deep breath, attempting to lull herself into a shallow state of meditation. Just enough to clear her head. It was in that state, as she started to gently release herself from the confines of her thoughts, that she felt something shift. The Force shifted in a dramatically familiar way, buzzing with a certain energy. It was an energy that Elara could identify from miles away. One that she hadn't felt in far too long. Her eyes snapped open and she spun on her heel, breaking into an excited jog.

After mapping her way through the Temple, she found herself atop the staircase in the entryway just beside the landing pads. Just cresting the stairs from the pad was Obi-Wan, conversing with a second party, which was the source of the Force shift––Anakin. From the tops of their respective staircases, their eyes met. Matching grins broke out across their faces, and Elara jogged down the steps hand trailing along the marble bannister. Her toes had just brushed the bottom step when two arms curled around her waist and swept her up.

" _Anakin!_ " she squealed in surprise, hands clutching his shoulders for support.

Anakin had hoisted her up and spun her around whilst laughing. His face was pressed into the crook of her neck and his arms were wound securely around her waist, holding her as tightly as possible. After completing two whole spins, Elara was set back on her feet and the two siblings grinned at each other. It had been four years since they had seen one another. Missions always took them to opposite ends of the galaxy, and left them always missing each other by mere minutes. Much had changed since their last meeting, which was pointed out as Elara launched herself into a hug.

"You're tall!" she laughed, arms winding around his neck. She knew a day would come where he would likely be taller than her; but it was so strange, as they last time they'd seen one another the top of his head cleared her elbow by a few inches. Now he loomed over her by a handful of inches, and Elara was sure that there was still room for him to grow. Anakin laughed and held her tightly, giving a good squeeze.

"And you're old," he chuckled. The brotherly insult caused her to laugh again, hiding her face into the crook of his neck. Her eyes stung with tears of happiness, which were absorbed by the layers of fabric that made up Anakin's robes. "It's been too long…"

Elara drew out of the embrace and lifted her hands to clasp his cheeks. She beamed up at him, marveling at how much he had grown. The childish softness of his jawbone had sharpened and become more defined, and his cheeks appeared to be following suit; though there still appeared to be some child-like roundness to them. His eyes were still the same lively, mischievous blue, and they twinkled as he smiled down at her. The braid behind his ear dangled just at jaw level. Both Elara and Anakin's hair had darkened significantly from the sun-bleached blonde that Tatooine had forced upon them thanks to the binary suns. Now their hair was a darker, subdued blonde––tending more towards brown, even.

"Look at how big you've gotten…" Elara murmured, almost to herself. It was such a punch in the gut to see how much he had grown. She hadn't been there to see him grow, and she knew at the start of everything that _that_ would be the most difficult part of this path. But Anakin looked happy and healthy and that was all that mattered.

Anakin chuckled and shrugged his broadening shoulders.

"I'm not _that_ much bigger."

"To _me_ you are––you forget that I once cradled you in my arms!"

"Well, to me, I just feel older," Anakin informed. He nodded his head at her, as though to gesture to her face. " _You_ look older." Elara arched both brows and a panicked look that she remembered very well crossed his face. He stepped back and held up both hands placatingly. She watched as his eyes darted towards his Master for help; and Elara heard Obi-Wan chuckle. "B-but in a good way! More… mature, I think. More adult-like."

"That would be because she _is_ an adult," drawled Obi-Wan. He had strolled forward, a smile playing on his lips from the sight of the reunion. Anakin offered a petulant roll of his eyes, which Elara snorted at. She turned away from her brother to give Obi-Wan a hug, curling her arms about his neck. "Good to see you as always, Elara."

Elara smiled over his shoulder and turned her head so her lips were lined up with his ear. "Thank you for keeping him safe," she murmured. Obi-Wan's arms tightened around her momentarily, holding her a little closer than he ever had before. Elara stretched up on her toes to accommodate the closeness a little better. When they broke out of the embrace, their eyes met. Obi-Wan nodded sincerely, lips curling into a smile. The smile was easily returned while the two remained close, with Elara's hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders, and one of his hands at her waist.

"I see you two have gotten close," Anakin deadpanned, nose scrunched up in what almost looked like distaste.

Elara laughed quietly upon noticing the protective gleam that had risen in her brother's eyes. Some things never changed. Anakin had always been protective of her, and she recalled many instances of him throwing his tiny body in front of hers as Sebulba spat at her and threatened her with vicious words. Sometimes whoever was bothering her would laugh and step back, and sometimes Elara had to push him behind her in case the situation escalated. It appeared that protectiveness had grown with him, now aware of all other things he could potentially protect his older sister from.

"I am allowed to have friends, Anakin," she laughed.

Anakin sighed and his shoulders slumped a little, eyes flicking upwards as he grasped for words. He gestured lamely with his hands when his gaze returned to the two in front of him.

"Yeah, but…" he petulantly trailed off. His eyes danced between Obi-Wan and Elara, and the unspoken words 'this is weird to me' became clear. Anakin's gaze became honed in on the hand Obi-Wan had left on Elara's waist and his nose scrunched up a little more, eyebrows following suit.

His Master chuckled in amusement and finally removed his hand from her person, fingers gingerly brushing against her hip as it dropped. "Come!" Obi-Wan enthused, gesturing down the entrance hall. "We can all exchange stories over lunch; I, for one, am absolutely starving."

OOOO

Lunch eventually progressed into talk of a sparring match between Elara and Anakin. It was Obi-Wan who posed the suggestion, as he was curious how the siblings would fare in a match against each other; they were so used to working _with_ one another, he wondered how they would act and react when they were pitted _against_ the other. He, of course, would be the mediator, and curious audience member. They laid claim to a training room, which were often empty at that time of day, and they let the match commence.

Obi-Wan watched with a hand hovering at his lips, attentively letting his eyes follow each attack and defensive move. It was like the two were meant to battle together. He suspected that was likely due to the Force bond he had detected so long ago, which connected them so strongly. Their energies existed together in near perfect harmony. They complimented one another; while there was always an underlying push of aggression behind Anakin's movements, but there was a collectiveness to Elara's fighting style that perfectly counteracted that. They simply… balanced each other out. It was like watching a choreographed dance, their blue sabers clashing and humming dissonantly as they moved about, completely fleet of foot. They passed each other in streaks of black and white, their robes contrasting just as much as their fighting styles did. And none of that was lost as their movements became quicker; Obi-Wan foresaw them being quite the asset to the other fighting side-by-side in battle one day.

Obi-Wan's focus eventually became wholly fixated on Elara as he watched her twist and spin and swing; every move advanced effortlessly into the next. There was something inherently graceful about the way Elara wielded her lightsaber; her movements were so smooth and precise and every step she took and shift she made was dance-like. It was wonderfully clear that years of practice––and practical experience––had aided in honing her skills. It was nearly mesmerizing to watch her. One would think she had been trained in lightsaber combat since she was very, very young, but Obi-Wan knew that to be false. Yet it was as though she had been born to do it. None of the effort it took to spar showed on her face, her expression remaining focused but dignified. Even that was something that the most hardened, experienced Jedi had difficulty with. The way the colored light from the sabers flickered across her face was beautiful–– _she_ was beautiful.

For whatever reason, the revelation of her beauty struck him hard. It was like a strange kick to the chest and it took his breath away. For a moment, at least. It caused a slip in the walls he had carefully constructed to hold back the waves of emotion he often felt. It was a brief slip, a slight crack that he scrambled to patch up; luckily, the slip went unnoticed by the sparring siblings. While watching the two continue to fight, his thoughts were elsewhere, questioning why openly recognizing Elara as beautiful had struck him so strangely. It was a statement of fact––she had always been beautiful, as far as he was concerned. Not only did she hold physical beauty, she held intellectual beauty. Her personality was beautiful. And why all of that had hit Obi-Wan like a blaster bolt mildly confused him. Those confused thoughts, however, were put on hold as the sparring match came to an end.

That end came when the siblings each had their sabers leveled at the side of the other's throat––Elara's hovered over Anakin's left shoulder, and his hovered over _her_ left shoulder. The energy blades hummed and buzzed just inches from their throats. The match had ended in a draw. The composed expressions on the faces of the Skywalker siblings broke; Anakin smiled and deactivated his lightsaber whilst Elara did the same.

"I'd never kill you," Anakin teased.

"The sentiment is shared," Elara laughed, a little out of breath. Her hand rose to swipe across her forehead, smearing away the sweat that had beaded there. Anakin's smile became a cheeky grin and he held his shoulders up by his ear in mock sheepishness.

" _But_ I think I might have won that round," he suggested.

Elara scoffed and placed a hand on her hip, the hand gripping her lightsaber hilt hanging at her side. "Oh, really? Because _I_ think it ended in a draw," she decided diplomatically.

"My lightsaber stopped just before yours, which means you would have been dead before you got the chance to retaliate."

A loud scoff forced its way from Elara's mouth, and she shook her head; she reached up and mussed Anakin's short hair, an action that he clucked his tongue at and frowned. Anakin moved his head away from Elara's gentle fingers, and she chuckled at the childish response to her affection. Retaliating, Anakin tugged on her padawan braid, and she rolled her eyes while his hand was smacked aside. It was clear to Obi-Wan that despite the years apart, the love they had for each other had not diminished. Anakin had matured, but there was a child-like vulnerability that appeared when he interacted so closely with his sister. Their interactions were always so loving, and the Jedi Knight was sure that they would always be that way––and that was wonderfully reassuring. She leaned forward, as though telling a secret, and whispered,

"It was a draw." Anakin rolled his eyes good naturedly, and drew his sister in for another hug, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck. Elara smiled and placed a hand on the back of his head, smoothing her fingers through his hair. Obi-Wan distantly recalled a time where she had done the same thing to him, her fingers delicately carding through his hair; his spine tingled at the memory. "We'll keep at it and then maybe one day you'll be able to beat me. After that, perhaps one day you'll be able to beat Obi-Wan." Elara smiled over at the mentioned man and Anakin drew out of his sister's embrace. She narrowed her eyes playfully and Obi-Wan arched an eyebrow. "He's quite the artist with a saber."

Obi-Wan's lips quirked to the side and he allowed himself to playfully saunter a few steps forward. He gestured to her with the hand that had been hovering at his mouth, pointedly looking to the hilt clutched in her hand.

"You are quite skilled with a lightsaber as well; I always consider myself quite lucky whenever I am graced with the chance to spar with you, Elara," Obi-Wan complimented, his lips quirked to the side in that troublesome smirk. He felt mildly satisfied when a tinge of pink rose to the tops of her cheeks; it reminded him of the sunburn she had left Tatooine with, the shade of pink rather becoming.

"You flatter me, Obi-Wan," she replied, tone light and genuine. He inclined his head and bent at the waist in a slight, but present, bow; he looked up at Elara from under his lashes, smirk growing a little wider. Her blush grew a little darker.

Whilst Elara appeared flattered by the display, her brother clearly had other thoughts about it. He looked between the two with the same crumpled expression from earlier, only this time it was more severe. He turned away to retrieve his robe, muttering something that sounded like 'I don't know what's going on, but I don't like it.' That made the two adults grin at the other, something unspoken passing between them. Elara tore her gaze away from Obi-Wan's so she could hook the hilt of her lightsaber back onto her belt. Her eyes darted back to his, however, once the task was done, and she almost sheepishly looked away upon realizing that he was still watching her. It was moments like that when Obi-Wan secretly wished Elara still had difficulty in regards to telegraphing her emotions through the Force. Perhaps knowing what she'd felt in that moment would have helped ease the confused thoughts that continued to gnaw at the back of his head.

But, alas, Elara was becoming a very accomplished Jedi-to-be, and Obi-Wan would have to meditate upon his thoughts, like he always did.

OOOO

Having Anakin back at the Temple was a breath of fresh air to Elara. They spent late nights catching up with each other, sitting cross-legged on the floor of one of their rooms. Tales would be told of the missions they had been on, the planets they had seen, and the beings they had met. Some of the stories were harrowing, others were hilarious and had them bent at the waist laughing. Anakin had excitedly inquired about Padmé when his sister mentioned she had worked with her a handful of times; Elara had chuckled at his enthusiasm and playfully teased him about how infatuated he had been with her when he was younger. Anakin had shrugged off her comments, but his cheeks had pinkened with a blush.

The siblings reacquainted themselves with each other and how the other had changed. Elara had to consistently remind herself that he wasn't nine anymore. That he was a young man, now, and he didn't need to be babied so much. It felt wrong to verbally admonish him for things that he said or did, but fixing him with a look seemed to be a suitable replacement. Anakin started feeling out the more adult relationship he was forming with his sister, and found himself pleasantly surprised when not much seemed to change. They still joked around, recalled old memories of home, and picked on the other like they used to; there were just more types of conversation he could participate in, now.

As promised, the two would spar when they had the chance and were often times observed by Obi-Wan. He would offer suggestions and gentle criticisms, and sometimes would step in to spar against either sibling, with the promise of a trio spar lurking somewhere in the future. The trio would eat meals with each other when possible, though Obi-Wan was often called off to meetings for extended periods of time. They found entertainment in swapping embarrassing stories––most of the time about Anakin. He would groan and hide his face in his hands, pleading for them to stop. He would retaliate by alternating between embarrassing stories of Elara and Obi-Wan, who took it with more grace than the young man. They also discussed more serious topics, swapping ideas and debating topics as they walked about the Temple. The conversations would often carry on for hours till a convenient stopping point was found. The three were forming a working partnership and friendship that could be beneficial to them in the trying times. If there was one thing that they all knew for sure, it was that the other two had their back.

Three weeks into the restful period, Obi-Wan approached Elara with a request.

"A mission?" Elara inquired, leaning forward against the marble railing. Obi-Wan was partially seated on the same railing, his arms crossed over his ribcage. The late afternoon light painted the planes of his face gold and the blue of his eyes stood out dramatically. He nodded and met her gaze easily.

"Yes. I am to travel to the planet of Gleann, where the senator's council is divided between seceding from the Galactic Republic, and remaining within it. Both sides are attempting to persuade him in their direction, and we have been called upon to discuss such conflict. If we do our job correctly, Gleann will remain in the Republic," Obi-Wan explained, voice softly expressive. Elara nodded along, absorbing the given information. She then fixed him with a curious look that crinkled her brows together and caused her lips to gently part.

"And why have you asked me?" she inquired curiously. There were innumerable other people he could ask––experienced Knights and Masters that had more experience than her, a padawan of six years. She was flattered that he had asked her, of course, but her honest curiosity was piqued.

Obi-Wan started to run his fingers along his jaw, gently stroking his beard. "Master Yoda informed me that you have a certain talent with placating––how should I phrase this… _rowdy_ politicians. Whilst I adore Anakin, he typically tends more towards…"

"The aggressive approach?" Elara offered with a laugh. Obi-Wan joined in the laughter, and nodded, eyes twinkling with mirth.

"I am still attempting to teach him the discipline of evaluating his words and thoughts before he speaks." Obi-Wan made a face, clearly recalling something from a previous mission. "Those slips of his tongue have landed us in trouble before. Has he always been so sharp of tongue?"

Elara nodded, her laughter swelling.

"Absolutely. He often picked fights with men three times his age."

The two let the laughter die out naturally. A beat of comfortable silence followed before Obi-Wan steered the conversation back on track. "And, besides, I hold much confidence in your combat skills, should things go horribly, terribly wrong. Sometimes peace talks end up being decidedly lacking in peace." He raised both eyebrows inquisitively, the tiniest version of that dangerous smirk rising to his lips. "So? Will you join me?"

Elara turned to look out over the cityscape stretched out before them. They were stood out on the balcony that they had stood on years ago, exchanging a robe and discussing prophecies. She never could have imagined that six years later Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, would be asking her to accompany him on a mission on that very same balcony. But what had once a dream, had become reality. A blissful, strange, thrilling reality. A smile bloomed across her face, and she turned her attention back to Obi-Wan, eyes twinkling.

"I would be honored, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

 _ **Afterword:**_ **Ages in this chapter: Elara is 26, Obi-Wan is 28, Anakin is 16.**

 _ **The inspiration that has struck me for this story is insane. So, here's the next chapter! And the next one is gonna be fun, 'cause it's basically gonna be all Elara and Obi-Wan spending time together and all that good fun. I've been having a blast getting back into this story, and I can't stop thinking up new ideas; so I hope you all enjoyed the new chapter!**_

 _ **Review Replies!**_

 **ZabuzasGirl:** _There will probably be one or two more chapters before we hit movie territory; I just wanna flesh out some more of Obi-Wan and Elara's relationship before we head into Attack of the Clones. That's where shit is gonna get real. I hope you had a good holiday season, and good start to the new year! Thanks again!_

 **LeggoMyEggo92:** _Thank you, very much––the luck will be need this semester. I hope that you enjoyed the update! Thanks again!_

 **Robinbird79:** _I'm really working hard on keeping the flow of their relationship natural; and it's difficult because they aren't in the kind of situation (yet) where they are always around each other. Obi-Wan's off with Anakin, and Elara is with Yoda, and they only really see each other for a couple of days at a time––a week or more if they're lucky. So I'm hyped to get to the point where they're consistently in the other's presence. And I also look forward to writing more sassy/flirty Obi-Wan. It's gonna be great. I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **fallondyson:** _Here you go! A new update, so soon after the other!_

 **heroherondaletotherescue:** _When thinking about last chapter, I wanted to sort of close out the section on the beginning section of her training with something meaningful––and the kyber crystal/lightsaber training seemed to be the best situation. And I definitely think Obi-Wan beginning to realize there's something there is important, because I think it would take him longer to process it. I hope you had a happy start to the new year! Thanks again!_

 **LoveFiction2017:** _Thank you!_

 **LealovesMokuba:** _Thank you so much; I hope you enjoyed the chapter just as much as the last one!_

 **Guest:** _Your review made me smile! I'm very glad that you're enjoying Elara and Obi-Wan's interactions and that you look forward to seeing how their story interweaves with the events of the movie and such. I have such plans… such plans! I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 _ **And thank you to those that added this to their follows/favorites––it means a lot to me!**_

 _ **I hope to get the next chapter up fairly soon; I've got a lot of the next chapter planned out, and I'm excited for you all to read about Elara and Obi-Wan's (mis)adventures on Gleann. Thanks again for being completely awesome!**_

 _ **~Mary**_


	11. The Snow Blossom

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize._

11\. The Snow Blossom

 _Gleann, Inner Rim_

The political state on Gleann was absolutely appalling. Elara watched wide-eyed as being argued against being, voices raised and words overlapping. Some of the senator's council members were standing, hands braced against the table as they sharply jutted their body over the tabletop. Others remained firmly in their seats, banging fists against arm rests and throwing their heads back against the tall, ornately carved splats of the chairs. The meeting had started out diplomatically enough, but once the meat of the conversation was brought to light––whether or not Gleann should leave the Republic––a heated debate began. That debate escalated far too quickly, launching the room into the argumentative chaos that had made any form of civilized discourse impossible. The opposing sides seemed to have taken seats across from each other to form united fronts against the other side. This left Senator Proc Noth––who had been unable to get much of a word in––at the head of the table, a spindly fingered hand pressed to his forehead. Elara and Obi-Wan sat opposite him, at the foot of the table, watching the proceedings in stunned silence.

"They sound like krayt dragons fighting for food," Elara murmured. The mentioned sound had never been a pleasing one to hear on the horizon; and the likeness in the council members' squabbling was astounding. The majority of the council members were, indeed, Gleanneans, wearing robes that contrasted their slate grey skin with vivid brocades of blue and green and purple. The flashes of color served to hurt one's eyes as they flailed their sleeves about in wild gestures of their arms.

Obi-Wan hummed, stroking fingers across his jaw, eyes flicking back and forth between the two sides of the table. One brow quirked a little upon witnessing one council member brandish a threatening finger; there was an offended, disdainful cry from the counselor that was being pointed at. "I fear the Jedi Council grossly understated the how severe the situation was," he replied, leaning in towards her. His shoulder bumped against hers in their closeness.

She scoffed gently in response. The room was positively buzzing with frazzled energy that was nearly overwhelming. It flooded every sense. Eyes were assaulted with flurries of movement, the noise was headache rendering, the room smelled faintly of perspiration and heat, and the tension tickled at one's skin. Elara wondered what they all thought they would gain from such squabbling––she couldn't make out a single word being shouted, be it in Galactic Basic or Gleannish. Part of her feared that she might discover just how much the situation could escalate; her eyes danced around the room trying to find what objects could be utilized as weapons, and was soothed to realize there wasn't much. Most of the decoration on the wall was carved into it, and all other trinkets were blessedly out of arm's reach of the table. Though that did leave the chairs and whatever the council members might have hidden in their robes.

"Perhaps you should work your magic, hm?" Obi-Wan suggested, tone light and perhaps even a little playful. Elara bobbed her head and rose to her feet, an action that had typically grabbed attention in the past. The arguing, however, continued. Elara cleared her throat gently and lifted her chin, allowing herself to gain a slightly more lofty positioning of her head.

"If I might have your attention for a moment," Elara tried, raising her voice a little. Proc Noth offered her a tired look from the head of the table and gestured to his council with a disappointed hand. "If you would all just…" If anything, it seemed like the ruckus was simply getting louder. Setting her jaw and gritting her teeth, Elara raised her chin just a little more. " _Excuse me!_ " Her voice had risen sharply, her tone displaying the authority she held. It was a tone of voice that she had been practicing on Anakin since he was very young. A tone of authority becoming of a Jedi peacekeeper. It seemed that it did the trick, as the council members slowly quieted down and gave the padawan their attention. Begrudgingly so, but the attention was gained nonetheless. Her expression smoothed into something more neutral, the muscles in her jaw relaxing. "Thank you. Master Obi-Wan and I came here to engage in civilized discourse regarding your stance on staying within the Galactic Republic. We did _not_ agree to endure such uncivilized noise. You are the Senator's Esteemed Council of Gleann—I believe that you could manage an afternoon of peaceable talks?"

There had been heat behind her words, disguised by the coolness of her tone. But, just like her raised tone before, it seemed to do just the trick. There were unintelligible murmurs as the council started to settle back into their chairs, recomposing themselves. After a minute they resembled the council members they were meant to be, sitting demurely in their chairs as they waited for the chance to speak. There were a smattering of glares being shot about, betraying that the companionable silence was being faked. Faked or not, it was still the quiet they required. From the corner of her eye, Elara could see Obi-Wan smirking behind his hand. Elara inclined her head to Proc and her expression remained neutral.

"I apologize for the interruption, Senator Noth."

"An interruption much needed," he assured, his tone clearly relieved.

Elara seated herself once more and the meeting both resumed and restarted at a much more palatable tone. It became incredibly clear that those who wished to join the Separatist movement believed that Gleann had been dreadfully underrepresented in the Galactic Senate. They cited examples of times their advice had gone unheeded; how their voice seemed to be small and unwanted. They vehemently insisted that the Republic was a failing cause and had been for many years, and that it would behoove their planet to sever all ties with it. Those in favor of staying reminded those opposed of what good the Republic had done for them. How they had maintained a mostly peaceful stasis and how Gleann had been kept out of any major conflicts. All arguments from both sides were brought to the table, discussed, debated, beaten, praised, spit-upon, and resigned. That process was repeated continuously for a number of hours. By the time the meeting had come to a close, no definitive decision had been made, and everyone was very tired.

When the council meeting had ended, Proc Noth had urged Obi-Wan and Elara to remain in the council chamber so they might all speak privately. He slouched back in his chair and rubbed at his eyes with his spindly fingers. Those fingers rubbed their way down the length of his narrow, bony face; his cheeks were decorated with thin tattooed lines of black and white, following the angle of his sharp cheekbones. Similar tattoos cut horizontally across the bridge of his nose and a thicker white line, flanked by two thinner black ones, flowed over the curve of his chin, the underside of his jaw, and the front of his throat. Such tattoos were traditional on Gleann and it was not uncommon to see similar markings on those who called the planet home. Senator Noth fixed his tired green eyes on Obi-Wan before sweeping them towards Elara.

"You understand the predicament I find myself in, yes?" he inquired in his naturally lofty voice. Obi-Wan nodded his head and paced up the length of the room, only to take a seat at the senator's right hand. He braced one arm on the table whilst thoughtfully running his fingers across his jawline.

"Indeed. Your council does a remarkable amount of arguing; and not in the most productive of ways," Obi-Wan pointed out.

Elara seated herself on the edge of the table on the left side, torso twisted so she could see both Proc and Obi-Wan properly. "With all of the conflicting opinions it's understandable that you have not been able to come to a proper conclusion," she sympathized, voice gentle.

"And once the arguing finishes, I am presented with arguments from both sides that are well thought out and sound in reasoning. The members of my council that beg to remain in the Republic remind me of what benefits Gleann has received from being part of the it… Those that wish to leave pose compelling arguments as well. There _are_ fundamental issues with the Galactic Republic, we all know there are; and our voice _has_ always been quiet within the senate. Often times we feel… _ignored_. Lesser than others. With compelling arguments on both sides, I find myself willing to listen to both, yet not swayed towards either side," Proc explained.

Every other diplomatic mission that Elara had attended found the diplomats already swayed in a particular direction. Sometimes they rallied allies of the Republic to do their best to keep it strong; sometimes they tried their damndest to sway them. But this time, the situation seemed more delicate. Proc seemed amenable to listening to good arguments from both sides, so they needed to choose their words very carefully. One argument pitched wrong would see them lose an ally.

"There are those that separate from the Republic to see democracy die, and to have it done by our own hands. Your voice may be quiet in the senate, but that does not mean that cannot change. There _are_ problems in the Galactic Republic, you are right about that; every government has its issues. But that does not mean we have to leave in order to fix it," Elara said diplomatically. She slipped from where she sat on the edge of the table and instead took a proper seat, facing Proc. He watched her with interest, spindly fingers poised over his mouth. "You can fight for all of those that feel under represented in the senate––but you can't do that if you aren't there. You have such a strong voice. You can help fix what is wrong, and you _will_ have allies. But nothing with change if your grievances are unaired and allow them to be stoked by those that would see a more violent end to democracy."

Elara darted her eyes towards Obi-Wan, who offered a gentle nod of approval. When she looked back to Proc, he appeared thoughtful, his eyes softly narrowed and focused on the wall on the far side of the room. The tips of his fingers drummed against his chin. He hummed quietly.

"You suggest that those that would have us separate from the Republic have violent tendencies?"

Obi-Wan shifted forward in his seat and brought an arm to rest on the polished tabletop. "We do suspect that there could be factions of this movement that would do anything to see the Republic disbanded. The Jedi are investigating such claims as we speak."

"This planet has not known war for some hundred years; the last thing I would wish for it would be to plunge it into potential war…" Proc murmured, reclining in his seat.

"And we also wish to avoid potential war."

A thoughtful silence filled the council chamber. Proc slowly rose from his seat, his senator's robes fluttering as they shifted to fall into place. Obi-Wan and Elara rose from their own chairs in respect.

"I will give this some thought; if it would please you, there will be another council meeting to attend tomorrow. In the meantime, please, enjoy all that Gleann has to offer."

OOOO

Gleann was a very mountainous planet, with gorgeous expanses of mountain ranges and valleys alike. The grass was impossibly green and the air sweet with the smell of trees and flowers. Mist clung to the mountain tops and sometimes obscured the sky, muting the sunlight to a soft grey glow. The landscape was swathed in vibrant shades of green, impressive expanses of varying greys, splotches of lively purple, and cool, crisp blankets of white. Everything about the planet seemed fresh and cool and it was a welcomed change from the hustle and bustle of Coruscant.

Gleann was a widely mountainous planet, the peaks of the multiple ranges stretching for the misty sky. Valleys and glens formed between these ranges, and these flat areas often stretched out into hilly landscapes that rolled for miles, before ascending into a new mountain. Small forests dotted the planet, sometimes filling entire glens with dense foliage. Townships and villages were nestled both in these valleys and into the mountainsides, utilizing the landscape to their advantage. Valley villages were home to structures insulated by sod roofs and mud bricks, curling pathways of stone curling between houses and cantinas and marketplaces. These villages were dotted with wild flower patches, the purple flowers fluttering in the sweet breeze.

The capital city of Gleann was called Lárnach, and was both nestled in the largest valley at the base of Mount Leathan, as well as built into the sides of the range itself. Those structures in the glen resembled their country counterparts, though some were made of stone brick, and others coated in plaster. A large market place was located at the city's center, stands and booths put up between homes and places of business. The homes built into the sides of the mountain were only visible thanks to their doors, which stood out against the natural rock face. Walkways of cobbles and grass curved and cut in front of said doors, rising at steady inclines till steps were carved to allow access to a new level. The government building of Gleann was a massive structure carved into Mount Leathan. The stone work was impressive and ancient and magnificently kept. One would have thought the façade had been finished days ago. There were winding stone staircases that led to a massive door, which was made of wood panels sourced from trees across the planet. In fact, the entire façade of the building was carved to look like massive stone trees; as though an entire forest had been fossilized into the front of of Mount Lethan.

Gleanneans were renowned for the kindness and hospitality, which had been very well demonstrated by Obi-Wan and Elara's hosts. It was tradition for long-term guests to stay with native families, and the Pag family had graciously agreed to house the Jedi and Padawan for the duration of their stay. Their home was a series of rooms carved into the mountainside; the rooms were relatively small, but the family complex was bigger than anything Elara had ever lived in. The family had entrusted them with the code that opened their front door, had given them a room to sleep in, and invited them to share in their family meals. Their hospitality was flooring and completely genuine. It took the edge off the stress of the mission just enough to make the rest of their stay on the planet pleasant.

"I believe that was a successful first day," Obi-Wan exhaled on a pleasant tone. He seated himself cross-legged on his bedroll, his shoulders finally slumping in relaxation for the first time that day. Elara laughed a little and scrubbed her hands through her hair. Her fingers massaged her scalp, and she let her eyes fall shut tiredly. The day had been long and it was blissful to finally be surrounded by quiet.

"I didn't know that listening to people arguing could drain you so much…" she muttered. There was a warm chuckle from Obi-Wan's direction, who was clearly amused by her words. Elara quirked an eyebrow.

"Unfortunately I believe the majority of our visit will consist of listening to arguments. But the rumors of your diplomacy have turned out to be true, not that I doubted it; you did impressive work today," he commended.

Elara opened her eyes and chuckled under her breath at the compliment. She sat on the bed roll beside her companion's and shrugged off her robe. "Thank you." Methodically, Elara folded the robe with careful folds and creases, and set it aside. "Do you think that Senator Noth side with the Republic?" she inquired curiously, making work of removing her belt, obi, and tabard. While the Jedi robes were comfortable, the layers could sometimes feel restrictive after a long day. That, and the interior of the Pag family complex was surprisingly warm for being carved into stone.

Obi-Wan hummed in contemplation and started to work his fingers along his jaw. His blonde brows pinched together as he likely considered the events and conversations of the day. "I believe that he may be leaning towards supporting the Republic. He wants nothing but peace and goodness for his planet, and I think he realizes that the way to protect his people is to remain with the Galactic Republic. He will listen to his council, giving each side its chance to voice their opinions. It should be our greatest hope that, by the time we depart, he does not choose to separate like so many other systems have already done."

The situation was decidedly tense. It would be tense until some sort of break or, preferably, resolve came about. They would not be returning to Coruscant _until_ that break or resolve appeared, so Elara and Obi-Wan were fixed to be wading through the tension for the foreseeable future. Perhaps on any other mission it wouldn't feel so predominant; but because the outcome of the situation was dire, it was hard to ignore the stress of it all. It was testing Elara's ability to not let all external tensions distract her from what she needed to do––and it was exhausting, as their first day had already proved.

Elara shucked off her outer tunic, which left her in her dark brown inner tunic, and immediately felt herself to be at a more comfortable temperature. The inner tunic was lighter weight than its counterpart and the fabric was a little softer against her skin. Its sleeves were arm hugging, unlike the swooping sleeves of the outer tunic and robe, and it generally fit a little closer to the body. With a quiet, relaxed sigh, Elara laid back on her bedroll.

"Then I shall continue to focus on my most ardent hopes that this goes well." Elara crossed her boot clad ankles and folded her hands over her stomach comfortably. The bedrolls were cushioned and separated from the cold floor by large, plush pillows, the likes of which they also sat on when they ate meals. The Gleanneans had a talent for making stone walls and floors seem cozy and comforting; all walls––in the Pag family complex, at least––were draped and swathed in thick, beautifully spun fabrics of earthy tones. It had been explained that, in addition to disguising the rough stone walls, it helped insulate and keep the rooms warm. The floors were similarly covered, and all interior doors were just thick curtains that were drawn for privacy at night.

"Your hopes, ardent or otherwise, always seem to be placed with the best of intentions; and your intuition seems to steer you well," Obi-Wan hummed beside her. A smile curled across Elara's face and she lifted her head a little to find a more comfortable position on her pillow.

"I recall being told that listening to my intuition was the way to go," she replied in a playfully thoughtful tone. The Jedi beside her chuckled.

"And who would have told you that?" His tone was equally as playful.

"A Jedi Master by the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi. He offered me this advice after a sparring match where he completely thrashed me; to be fair, I _was_ overthinking everything."

Obi-Wan's hum filled the small room, the low sound was warm and sent a comfortable, pleasant shiver down Elara's spine. "He seems to have known what he was talking about––your intuition is impressive."

Elara hummed in response, opened her eyes, and rolled her head to the side. She fixed him with a smirk and arched both her brows.

"Perhaps one day he'll let me win a spar."

Obi-Wan grinned at her and chuckled, leaning back on his elbows. Blonde hair flopped into his eyes, which he rid with a simple flick of his head. He slid a sly glance at her from the corner of his eye, an eyebrow quirking upwards.

"Perhaps one day you'll beat him in a spar fair and square; I don't think this Obi-Wan Kenobi would 'let' you win––I think he would make you work for it."

A laugh pulled from Elara's throat and she started to absent mindedly play with her padawan braid––it was getting long, the end of it brushing the midpoint of her bicep. The tips of her fingers danced over the delicate braiding and small bumps of colored twine. A smile still played at the corners of her mouth, thankful for the lightheartedness of the conversation.

"Oh, yes he would… He is becoming more humble with age, though he retains his cockiness regarding his lightsaber skills. Deservedly so, he is rather good."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said, a grin evident in his voice. Elara rolled her eyes gently, no malice behind the action. She quietly murmured a 'you're welcome' and they lapsed into a comfortable silence. The day had been long and some playful banter had been needed; and goodness knew they were going to need a lot more lightheartedness for the rest of their stay.

OOOO

About a week into their stay on Gleann, things were boiling down to the nitty-gritty. Council meetings were a daily occurrence, they were very long, and the arguing got very heated. The number of times either Elara or Obi-Wan had to jump in to calm things down was alarming. They had become increasingly more involved with the council, making arguments, debunking points, defending the Republic. Defending why they were there in the first place. Some days Senator Noth would lean more towards one side than the other; and if Elara were keeping track––which she was––it would be evident he leaned more towards staying in the Republic than leaving it. That was a comfort.

When they weren't attending the Council meetings, or meeting with Proc, or discussing what diplomatic tactics they might have to use, Obi-Wan and Elara reveled in Gleann's atmosphere. They would take walks through Lárnach in the early morning as the sun peeked over the mountain peaks, or late in the evening as green and yellow lanterns sparked on to illuminate the streets. They had taken to finding quiet spots in the nearby forests to meditate, often almost sitting knee-to-knee in small clearings or atop rock outcroppings. Then, to alleviate stress, they had taken to sparring; it have them something a little more fun to focus on. Obi-Wan had decided they would keep score and see who had one the most spars by the time they left the planet. Elara had fixed him with a most wondrous deadpan look, as they both knew who would likely wind up the victor––and it certainly wasn't her. But she'd agreed to the tally anyways, what was a little bit of friendly competition between friends, anyways?

There was a set of rapid clashing sounds, dissonant humming sparking to life each time the sabers clashed. Elara was currently backing away from Obi-Wan's advances, his strikes wickedly quick and dangerously––impressively––precise. She had been holding her own quite well against the seasoned fighter. He had actually been in real life lightsaber combat before; she had not. Sparring had, thus far, been the extend of her use with the weapon. Her skills were becoming more refined, but there was still only so much she could learn or teach herself out of true combat. Regardless, Elara prefered sparring with Obi-Wan. Whenever she sparred with other padawans, they typically seemed intimidated and thus pulled their hits believing that they wouldn't land them anyways. She had become familiar with the way that certain Master's sparred, and while they never pulled their hits, she was vastly familiar with their fighting styles. With Obi-Wan, however, every spar yielded something different. He tried to change it up every time they fought, which was always refreshing.

Elara spun on the balls of her feet, the soles of her boots twisting at grass and digging into the soft soil. She removed herself from the path of Obi-Wan's swing and then made one of her own, her goal the middle of his back. But he was quick to block her blow, swinging his saber up and over his head before he held it parallel to his back. Elara noted his cheek lift in a smirk.

"Getting crafty, are we?" he hummed lightly.

"Only way to try and get one over on you," she replied in an equally light tone. She spun away once more, took a little leap over a stone, and put some distance between herself and Obi-Wan. She took a wide-legged stance, feet well planted, and her arms raised over her head with the blade of her lightsaber parallel to the ground.

With the smirk still playing across his face, Obi-Wan smoothly resituated his own stance. They locked eyes and held the other's gaze unwaveringly as they waited for the other to move. The cool mountain air ruffled their sleeves and their hair, as though teasing them to move. A smirk started to peel across Elara's lips. Months ago, she would have blindly charged him, eagerly believing that was the path to follow. But she was well prepared to wait for as long as needed. Eventually, they both moved simultaneously, lightsabers flourishing or cutting through the air to meet in a flurry of movement. They were, suddenly, very equally matched. They moved in a tight circle, sometimes with Elara gaining ground, sometimes with Obi-Wan gaining ground. They moved around each other like they were dancing, smoothly ducking and jumping, twisting and spinning. If there had been any onlookers, it would have almost appeared to be a choreographed routine.

Then, suddenly, they grabbed the other's right wrist, and their sabers clashed and locked overhead where they gurgled and hummed. They both pushed at the other's arm, in an attempts to see who would win out. They walked in a slow circle, arms sill raised over they head, their footsteps slowing till they came to a complete stop. They realized they'd come to a stalemate. Neither could move without the other conceding. Aware that the spar was over, and that it had ended in a draw, Elara started to decompress a little. It was then that she realized how close they were. They were nearly nose-to-nose, their heaving chests almost touching. Their closeness was… intoxicating, almost. It was intimate. She could see a droplet of sweat roll down his temple. She could feel the breath puff from his mouth. She could smell the mix of his sweat and soap he'd washed with that morning. She could feel the thrumming of his heartbeat in her fingertips, which were tightly pressed to the inside of his wrist. It was intimate because Obi-Wan could see _her_. See the mess of hair as it flopped into her eyes. See the fine pink flush of her cheeks. Hear the rush of her breath as she tried to catch it. See the glisten of sweat at her hairline. Elara was enthralled by it; she liked it.

"Congratulations," Obi-Wan murmured, the lovely tenor of his voice almost a whisper, "it's a draw."

Elara rolled her eyes but smiled regardless. "I guess I'll take it, then."

There was the simultaneous sound of both lightsabers being deactivated, and the muscles in their arms relaxed some. Elara dropped her hand from Obi-Wan's wrist, her fingers skimming against his flesh as they slipped away. She noticed a small rise of goosebumps on the exposed skin of his forearms, but dismissed it as a reaction to the slight chill of the air. But Obi-Wan, instead of just dropping her hand, guided it down to her side in a smooth motion, his fingers gently squeezing her wrist affectionately. The two turned away from each other then, going about returning their lightsaber hilts to their belts. Elara braced one hand on her hip and shivered, the coolness of the air chill the sweaty spots on the back of her neck and forehead. She scrubbed her sleeve across her sweaty forehead and sank down to sit on a large boulder. They had sparred at the edge of a grassy cliff, which overlooked an impressive landscape of snow capped mountains. A wistful smile appeared on her lips, eyes gently narrowed as they scanned the dusky horizon. The sky had been somewhat clear that day, leaving an expanse of blue to be admired by the locals. Now, in the early evening, it was turning a most gorgeous lilac color.

"Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?" Elara murmured to herself.

But it would seem that her companion had heard her.

"It most certainly is on the list," he responded, tone light and quiet. Elara craned her head over her shoulder to find his eyes trained on her, a smile quirking the corner of his lips. Elara laughed a little and shrugged on her robe, which she hugged around herself as she shivered. Her eyes darting back to the snowy peaked mountaintops. They seemed so peaceful. Prior to leaving Tatooine, the only mountains that she'd known were red-orange rock outcroppings––which were off-limits due to being home to the Tusken Raiders––and the erratic, ever shifting dunes of the desert. The Gleannish mountains were stalwart and unmoving and beautiful.

Obi-Wan situated himself beside her, hands clasped between his knees, their legs pressed together. Together, in companionable silence, they watched as evening mist started to weave between the peaks and as stars started to appear in the blanket of the sky. At some point––Elara wasn't sure when––one of Obi-Wan's arms had migrated around her shoulders, which had nestled her into his side. She had been shivering in the increasingly cool evening air. And, at some point, Elara had relaxed completely into him, her cheek dropped to his shoulder as she shared this blissfully peaceful moment with him.

With the sun setting, Elara and Obi-Wan wound their way back down the mountain, feet shuffling down a well-worn path that wove through the abundant forest. The dying light of the day caused the forest to glow a brilliant golden green, which pleased Elara immensely. She admitted to Obi-Wan, as they walked, they she had taken to collecting flowers from each planet that she visited. She had lived so long without seeing any plant life that she was fascinated by the gorgeous blooms that they produced. There were so many shapes and colors, all unique to the plant and planet of origin. Elara failed to notice that Obi-Wan had started to smile at her enthusiasm––and also failed to notice when he hung back a little to pluck something off a nearby bush.

"It still astounds me," Obi-Wan commented as they broke through the treeline and re-approached Lárnach. Elara arched her brows inquiringly, noting the soft smile that played on his lips. She smiled in response and laughed a little.

"What does?"

"Your ability to see the beauty everywhere in the galaxy. Nothing escapes your notice and you appreciate it all. From the grandest of views on the precipice of a cliff… to the smallest aspects of an unassuming plant." Obi-Wan then produced something as they walked, smiling at her kindly.

Pinched between his fingers was a gorgeous flower, delicate and so unlike anything she had seen before. The leafs and stem were pure white, and so thin they were practically translucent. There were five delicate petals, which also seemed to glow white, though the edges were tinged with the gentlest of blues. A brilliant grin appeared on Elara's face as Obi-Wan offered it to her.

"It's gorgeous; thank you!" Elara then took it from between his pinched, bringing it up to her nose to sniff gently. The fragrance was sweet and crisp like the air. They had stopped walking as she'd admired the bloom, just on the outskirts of the city. Obi-Wan smiled his gratitude that she'd enjoyed the gesture, and then gently took the flower back. At her mildly confused expression, he chuckled.

"Allow me," he insisted, reaching up to tuck the flower behind her ear. His fingertips had just gently skimmed her temple when they heard an excited chatter.

A group of locals were rushing at them, hands flapping and faces bright, as they babbled at them in Gleannish. Both the Jedi and the padawan watched, wide-eyed, as the crowd seemed to grow and swarm around them. Women were wrapping Elara in warm embraces and caressing her cheeks with excited hands. Men were clapping Obi-Wan on the back and squeezing his shoulders.

"What's happening?" Elara asked, confusion rife in her voice.

"I'm afraid I haven't a clue," Obi-Wan replied, brows furrowed heavily over his eyes.

As another woman flocked to Elara and wrapped her arms about her neck, the padawan cleared her throat and arched her eyebrows curiously. "I-I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't quite understand what's happening," she told the woman. The woman tutted a little, but continued to smile as she took Elara's face between her hands.

"You have been given a Snow Blossom!" she enthused, her accent thick. "It is a very rare flower that grows only on the tops of our mountains; it is customary to give your beloved one of these flowers as a token of betrothal. We are celebrating!" The woman then pressed a strong kiss to Elara's forehead before she disappeared into the growing crowd.

Elara gaped after her, eyes wide, mouth wide open. Betrothed. In the eyes of these people, she and Obi-Wan were now betrothed. As that sank in, Elara whipped her head around to look to her companion; he gaped at her in much the same way, mouth open, eyes wide. The beating of her heart was rapid and frantic. Nothing could be said as the crowd pushed them forward, hands grabbing at theirs as they were pulled through the city. The crowd of Gleanneans grew and shrank and grew again as they were ushered through the city, word of the sudden engagement of their Jedi guests spreading like wildfire.

They were paraded through the city like celebrities and were given tokens of congratulations as they went. By the time they were escorted––yes, escorted––back to the Pag family complex, Elara had an armful of flowers and locally made jewelry. Obi-Wan's arms were laden with heavily woven fabrics that he recognized as traditional formal wear for the Gleannish men. Free drinks were promised to them as they were sped past the cantina. Local eateries insisted they come back for a celebratory meal. Everyone was in the most joyous of spirits, smiles not leaving anyone's face, not even once. With final well-wishes and embraces given, both Elara and Obi-Wan were ushered into the complex they were staying by Lel and Riyan Pag.

"What do we tell them?" Obi-Wan inquired as their hosts went about removing the gifts from their arms. Elara let out an intelligent 'um' as she tried to process what had just happened. Logically, they should tell them the truth––that it was a mistake, that they were dreadfully unfamiliar with the customs of the planet, and that they were not betrothed. That they _could not_ be betrothed. But, before she could formulate any sort of response, Lel had swept Elara away to the room that she and Obi-Wan shared, speaking excitedly under her breath. News traveled fast, it would seem.

Riyan clapped a sturdy hand onto Obi-Wan's shoulder, which snapped his attention away from Elara, who disappeared into the other room. Riyan was smiling boyishly whilst his head bobbed in a steady nod.

"My congratulations to you and your beautiful wife-to-be," Riyan said. The hand that had been on the Jedi's left shoulder slid to his right as Riyan came to stand beside him. "Come, we will drink to the occasion!" The two men walked side-by-side as Riyan practically pulled Obi-Wan into the kitchen. The Jedi was stuttering out syllables while his host went about filling two glasses with his choice of liquor.

"I-I'm afraid that there has been a mistake," Obi-Wan began, finally able to grasp hold of the words. Much to his surprise, Riyan––who had seemed incredibly agreeable the entire time they'd been there––shook his head adamantly.

"No. There is no mistake."

Obi-Wan stared at him, blinking silently at the man's statement. "I beg your pardon?"

"There is no mistake. The Snow Blossom is notoriously difficult to find, and you found it, and you picked it for your beautiful companion. There is. No. Mistake. There is never a mistake; there is an old saying that the blossom only appears for those who truly seek it, and that if it is found, the marriage is meant to be. Your marriage will be blessed, Master Jedi," Riyan nearly lectured, his voice unwavering and steadfast as he spoke. He was making it blatantly clear that there was no room for argument.

A collected, steady sigh was pulled from Obi-Wan's mouth, hands finding his hips as he tried to figure out how to go about this. It was clear that the tradition was very much steeped in the Gleannish culture, and if he wasn't careful he could insult that tradition in a slew of misplaced, but well intentioned, words. Carefully clearing his throat, the Jedi gently threaded his fingers through her ever-lengthening blonde hair.

"What I mean to say, is that those in the Jedi order are not… _allowed_ to marry. It is against our code to do so," Obi-Wan explained. Riyan fixed him with a crumpled look of confusion as he corked the liquor bottle and set it aside. The grey skinned man braced his hands on the counter and cocked his head to the side inquiringly.

"That is ridiculous."

"It is the Jedi Code, and Elara and I must follow it."

Riyan hummed and considered the two glasses of transparent, but vaguely purple, celebratory liquor. He picked one up, watched the liquid slosh around till it stilled, and then offered it to his guest. Slowly, Obi-Wan accepted it and brought it to his nose, where he took a careful sniff. It smelled overwhelmingly alcoholic, but vaguely fruity, like it had been distilled from a berry.

"There is still no mistake," Riyan decided, picking up the second glass. Obi-Wan felt his shoulders slump a little in defeat. "You must take it as a sign that this union is meant to happen. You found a Snow Blossom at a time of year where it is near impossible to find them! _It is a sign!_ One to marry your beautiful and kind companion. Now, we must toast in celebration." Riyan raised his glass and held it aloft expectantly, prompting Obi-Wan to do the same with subtle nod of his head. With a resigned sigh, the Jedi raised his glass and allowed Riyan to knock their glasses together.

Obi-Wan let the purple tinged liquid slide down his throat and coughed as it hit the back of it. It may have smelled somewhat sweet, but it was tart and tasted overwhelmingly of alcohol. Riyan laughed heartily as the Jedi Master placed a hand to his chest as the drink burned its way down to his stomach.

"Thank you," he finally managed, voice quieter and a little hoarse.

"You should return to your betrothed, Master Jedi, and celebrate your impending union. Lel and I will discuss the idea of having a celebratory dinner with our neighbors; I am sure that they, too, will thrilled to congratulate you."

At Riyan's urging, Obi-Wan returned to his and Elara's shared room, where Lel had just exited. She smiled warmly at him and ushered him to enter; once he did, she pulled the curtain shut behind him. Elara stood with her back facing Obi-Wan, a hand massaging the back of her neck. After a moment, they heard the door to the complex open and shut, leaving them alone.

"That was… unexpected," Obi-Wan voiced. Elara laughed and turned to face him, smiling broadly. The flower that had got them into this situation sill sat tucked behind her ear, contrasting nicely with the dark blonde of her hair.

"That it was. Who would have known this little thing would cause so much trouble," Elara chuckled, reaching up to touch the blossom. Obi-Wan snorted gracelessly in agreement. "Well, it would seem that Lel changed the sleeping arrangements, insisting that this will help prepare us for married life." Obi-Wan watched as she gestured to where their bedrolls had once been. He followed the line of her arm and found that the two bedrolls were, in fact, gone and replaced with one large one.

"Ah. I see." Obi-Wan nodded and crossed one arm over his ribcage, and the other rose to allow his fingers to dance across his jaw and chin. They lapsed into silence, then, as they stood and stared at what was to be their shared bed for the remainder of their stay. Obi-Wan shifted on his feet and cleared his throat, fingers scratching at his stubble. "Riyan was very insistent that this betrothal is real."

"As was Lel. I… don't think that we would be able to convince anyone here otherwise. There would be no harm in just letting them… believe it, would there? The talks will be over soon enough and the city believing us to be betrothed wouldn't much matter. Besides, it would take too much work and time––that we don't have––to convince anyone that the betrothal was a mistake," Elara reasoned. Then, a small smile appeared on her lips. "And… everyone seemed so happy; and in a time of political uncertainty, I think they could do with some lighthearted happiness."

An unbidden, easy, genuine smile pulled across Obi-Wan's lips at Elara's last sentiment. The citizens of Lárnach had, indeed, seemed overjoyed at the seeming news of a betrothal––and the betrothal of two strangers, at that. It was clear that, in Elara's silence, she was differing to him for an answer. He _was_ the higher ranking of the two. So he considered what she'd proposed and whether or not it would do them more harm than good. In weighing the options, and taking their hosts reactions into consideration, Obi-Wan slowly started to bob his head.

"Best let them believe, then. It's not as though they expect us to marry before we leave," Obi-Wan reasoned. Elara nodded her agreement and hummed gently.

"And even if they did, we could explain that there are traditions of our own that we wish to follow," Elara concluded. With a solution reached, the tension seemed to leave her shoulders. She then went about her stripping out of her flowing brown robe. Obi-Wan chuckled and arched a curious brow.

"And what traditions would those be?"

She laughed brightly, head tilting back at the blithe tone that he'd used. She shrugged as she started shrugging off her tabard. "I dunno… we can discuss faux Jedi marriage traditions if we have to. It isn't an eventuality, I hardly believe they'll expect us to be joined in marriage by the time that we leave."

Obi-Wan lowered himself onto the new bedroll, on the side that his had previously been situated. He started to work his boots off, chuckling under his breath as he did so. "Seeing as we did not know that the giving and receiving of a specific flower was considered a betrothal ritual, they could very well expect us to be married by our departure."

There was a disbelieving snort from Elara as she toed at the heels of her own boots. The pile of cloth hit the floor beside the bedroll with a muffled thump and her boots were soon set there too. She flopped onto the bedroll beside Obi-Wan and massaged her eyes tiredly. Then, after drawing her knees to her chest, she propped her chin atop them and smiled warmly. Elara chuckled to herself while considering the chaos they had just pulled through. Of all the trouble that she thought they would have on this mission, she wouldn't have ever thought it would be _this_. And it wasn't even that much trouble. There were excuses that they could use to pardon themselves for not appearing to be a couple blissfully reveling in their recent betrothal. It was trouble that would be easily forgotten once the mission concluded. It was a trouble that wouldn't even bleed into said mission; and that was the best kind of trouble there was.

If only there weren't the worst kind of trouble looming on the horizon.

 _ **Afterword:**_ _**So, initially, the mission they were on was only supposed to last for one chapter, but it looks like it'll probably be two, then it's off to the Attack of the Clones. I struggled a little with this chapter, as it's turning out to mostly be exposition for the next chapter, but I'm pretty happy with it.**_

 _ **Review Replies!**_

 **Bass Blitz:** _I'm glad the last chapter made your day! I hope that you enjoyed this one as well, despite the wait. Thanks again!_

 **TheSlayerofGallifrey:** _Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the newest chapter!_

 **heroherondaletotherescue:** _I really wanted to start biting into the fact that Obi-Wan and Elara have a budding relationship (of some description ;) ). Because, really, the only time they have to form their relationship, at the moment, is at the Temple and on these little missions, because Elara is yet to earn the title of Master and is still in training. And Elara DEFINITELY gets weird vibes off Palpatine, so we'll see how that serves her in the future. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **LoveFiction2018:** _Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it!_

 **Robinbird79:** _Anakin is definitely very protective of Elara, as she was one of the only people that he had for the longest of times. And I think it's important to see how he's reacting to Elara and Obi-Wan getting closer, and how he perceives that relationship. And Elara definitely feels put-ff by good ol' Palpatine, so that'll probably serve her well in the future, with whatever he might throw her way. Also, next chapter for Elara and Obi-Wan is gonna be action packed and kinda awkwardly flirty, so that's something to look forward to. I hope that you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **DailysTuff:** _Thank you so much! I hope that you'll keep on reading, because I've got lots more planned. Thanks again!  
_ **EmbersofAmber:** _I'm very glad that you've enjoyed the story so far! I'm having a blast writing it, and I really can't wait to write Elara and Anakin opposite each other now that he's older. There will also be more Palpatine scenes in the future, because that scheming bastard can't stay out of anything even if his life depended on it. And there will be the mission conclusion next time! They've still got some fun to be had on Gleann before they head back to Coruscant. I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter; thanks again!_

 **Guest:** _Thank you so much, I hope you enjoyed the new update!_

 **ArkytiorsSong:** _Sorry about the wait, but I'm glad that you've been enjoying the story! I hope that you enjoyed the newest chapter; thanks again!  
_ _ **And thank you to those that have added this to their follows/favorites; it means a lot!**_

 _ **Thank you, all, for being so patient––school and work were kicking my ass and gave me some wonderful (completely awful) writer's block. But I hope that this chapter, filled with so much Elara and Obi-Wan interactions, made up for it! I'll see y'all next time!  
~Mary**_


	12. Not to Plan

_Disclaimer:_ _I do not own Star Wars or any of its associated characters; they all belong to their respective owners. I only own any characters or plotlines that you do not recognize._

12\. Not to Plan

Rest was something that Obi-Wan Kenobi had needed after the hectic whirl of the previous evening. His head had been in a tizzy upon being struck with the realization that for the rest of their stay on Gleann, he and Elara would be perceived as a betrothed couple. This meant that the peoples of Lárnach would be showering them with gifts of congratulations. Those congratulations were also conveyed in the form of local, traditional blessings in Gleannish. It also meant that their host family insisted that they share a bedroll. They claimed that if they could not share a bedroll, they would not do well with married life; but they held every belief that they would be alright, because Obi-Wan had been meant to find the Snow Blossom. The whole of the situation had caused the Jedi's head spin.

Such was why he had slept so easily and so heavily the night of the betrothal mix-up. Upon rousing from this deep, much needed sleep, Obi-Wan was contented to acknowledge that he was very comfortable. Gleannish blankets were just heavy enough to be comfortable, keep warm, and yet also remain suitably cool. The bedroll was one of the more comfortable ones that he'd slept on in his lifetime, and the pillows were of similar quality. It was in this overall atmosphere of comfort that the Jedi awoke. He stirred gently and realized that there was a warm presence pressed to his front. Initially, Obi-Wan thought nothing of this; he sought out the pleasing warmth by shifting himself closer. It was only when that warmth shifted against him and made a quiet sound as it roused that he barely realized what–– _who_ ––he had sidled up against. It would seem that, in their sleep, Obi-Wan and Elara had cuddled up to one another. One of his arms was draped loosely over her waist, and one of her hands had snuck into his, which hung limply against her stomach. His chest was pressed flush to her back and their legs and feet had somehow gotten tangled beneath the blankets. They were very nearly breathing in sync, Obi-Wan could feel it. He could feel the warmth of her skin through her inner tunic, feel the softness of her hair tickling his nose, and feel her fingers shift between his. It was all quite overwhelming.

Both simultaneously seemed to realize their positioning and reacted similarly. Obi-Wan, suddenly alert, rolled aside while Elara flipped onto her stomach, cleared her throat, and briefly hid her face in her hands. The Jedi Knight also cleared his throat and pushed himself into a seated position. He attempted to ignore the flush of heat that was burning at the skin of his cheeks. He grimaced to think how pink they must have looked. Both of his arms were looped around his knees, and he was dutifully staring at the curtain that acted as their door.

"I, uh…" he began, voice rough with sleep, "I apologize." What Obi-Wan was apologizing for, he wasn't quite sure––he just felt as though he needed to. He supposed it was a need born out of the fact that he had never before, in the whole of his lifetime, had to share a bed with anyone. Necessity had simply never called for it. He figured that, perhaps, one day it would; and it had. But he'd never have guessed that it would have resulted in him waking up with Elara Skywalker in his arms. Nothing about the experience had been unpleasant, it had just been a surprise to discover that, in the night, he had reached out and held her close.

Obi-Wan chanced a glance at Elara from the corner of his eye and watched as she waggled a hand that then pushed into her endearingly sleep-mussed hair. It was falling into her eyes and stuck up in a couple of places, which was remedied by a couple passes of her fingers and a half-hearted ruffle.

"No, no, it's fine… there's no need to apologize," she assured him, voice sleepy. "I know that I woke up holding Anakin more than a few times––we used to share a bed when he was small. Sometimes it just… happens."

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to inform her that that was different––Anakin was her brother, Obi-Wan was _not_. There was a distinct difference. He caught eye of a blush on Elara's cheeks, which led him to believe that she, too, realized the difference. But she had been trying assuage his embarrassment, so he nodded his silent acknowledgement and smoothed hair away from his forehead. They lapsed into a silence that was not as easy as quiet usually was between them. There was a faint twinge of awkward hanging in the air, an unspoken recognition that neither quite knew how to address––or _if_ they should address––how they had woken up. Common sense told Obi-Wan to think of it as an embrace; he and Elara hugged often. But there was something distinctly more intimate to the situation. They had been sleeping, for one thing, and for another, it was a distinctly intimate action that had been carried out unconsciously, subconsciously. The thought of it caused Obi-Wan's cheeks to flush with heat once more.

"So, we're to attend the Council meeting again, yes?" Elara inquired a few minutes later, grabbing her boots. She started to worm her feet into them, hair flopping into her eyes while she pulled. Once they were on, she tucked the legs of her trousers into the tops of her boots, adjusting them till they fit just right.

"Yes, that's correct," Obi-Wan agreed, the words coming out on a slight sigh. He started to pull on his boots as well, feeling more alert and thankful for the change in subject.

There was a quiet laugh as Elara rose to her feet and started to adjust her sleep-rumpled tunic. "More fighting, then?"

The corner of his mouth quirked a little. "More than likely. Though I do believe the Senator said that he believed he would have an answer for us and his Council in the next day or two. Perhaps there will be good news."

Elara cocked a brow skywards and snatched up her outer tunic from where it sat with her pile of clothing. "But with good news would come more arguing. I am starting to believe that some of these Council members survive solely on arguing for argument's sake…"

Obi-Wan chuckled as he rose to his feet and started to re-dress as well. He was quick with adding his layers back on, a life-time of wearing the same style of clothing coming to his aid. Not only was the Jedi quick, he was percice; there was little tugging or re-adjustment after the fact. But from the corner of Obi-Wan's eye, he could tell that his companion had a very different way of dressing. Elara made sure everything was perfectly placed and adjusted before the next layer was added, and she adjusted as she went. By the time she finished dressing, everything was perfectly in place, not a hem out of line, not a layer out of place. Elara had been wearing the uniform of a Jedi for six years, but there still seemed to be a reverence with which she donned it. It was something that Obi-Wan admired, something that he respected; it endeared her to him even more. The Jedi robes had always suited her––and she had always suited them. And he considered himself very lucky to have gotten to know her so well.

OOOO

"I believe congratulations are in order," Proc Noth intoned, tone almost teasing. Elara, who had been standing outside the council chamber for the senator, responded with an inquiring look. He chuckled knowingly, eyes gleaming with mirth. "Congratulations on your betrothal, of course––I heard that Master Kenobi offered you a Snow Blossom. Though I was under the impression that the Jedi did not participate in intimate entanglements."

Elara laughed a little, ducking her chin upon hearing his explanation. She attempted to ignore the heat flaring in her cheeks, but it was impossible when all she could focus on was her blush and the way that her heart had leapt. " _Intimate_ encounters are completely justifiable under the Code. They aren't banned, they aren't frowned upon. If one wishes to engage in such activities, they may, but they have to be careful. It is what those encounters may _lead to_ that is frowned upon. Long lasting, close relationships such as marriage are considered dangerous liabilities, something that we would become more focused on than our duties," she explained, relaying what had once been told to her. "It is a… common misconception birthed from the fact that most Jedi stray from intimacy for fear that they may fall into something deeper than just attraction."

Proc nodded, though a smile started to crawl across his face. He waggled a thin finger at her, which prompted her to raise an eyebrow.

"And yet you and Master Kenobi choose to ignore your Code and act upon your feelings. It is admirable."

The padawan looked up and down the spacious hall before she sidled closer to the Senator of the planet. He blinked at her expectantly and clasped his hands behind his back with patience. "There… wasn't exactly a way for us to tell anyone… but––" Before she had a chance to let Proc in on the misunderstanding, he laughed and placed a hand on her shoulder. It was clearly meant to be a reassuring, comforting gesture.

"Your secret will be safe with us; here, on this planet, we believe in love above all else. Love for your neighbor, love for your family, love for your guests. We will not tell your Jedi Council, young padawan," he winked as he spoke his reassurance. "Now, come, there is much to discuss! And you must pass my congratulations on to your Master Kenobi."

With that, Proc swept into the room with a swirl of brocaded fabric, a cheeky wink sent in her direction. Elara blinked after him, mouth still hanging open in a half-formed word. She simply stared at where he had once been, bringing her hands up to press against her cheeks. There was a warmth that clung to her cheeks and bled into her palms, betraying the fact that they were still flushed. The meeting would only start once she entered the room, but Elara had to take a second to recompose herself. It had been decided it would be easier to just accept the fact the city thought that the Jedi and padawan were betrothed; Elara had expected it would be a simple congratulations here and there. But it was very much forefront in the minds of everyone that they bumped into.

The idea of marriage was not one that Elara had ever really entertained. For the whole of her life, she had been focused on the family that she already had. She focused on helping her mother, keeping Anakin safe, and surviving the life of a slave on Tatooine. Marriage was common amongst slaves, it happened every so often, but there were no guarantees it would be a long and happy life. More often than not, someone either died or was sold to a different slave master and taken far away. The idea of marriage had always been very romantic to Elara. It was an idea that she never thought she would have the pleasure of knowing. It was very dream-like, a dream that she had decided would likely never come true. It was a dream that she shouldn't even entertain given her new life as a Jedi, as they didn't flat-out did not marry. But it was a thought that Elara was now entertaining because an hour did not pass where it was not brought up. And it was a thought that centered around her and _Obi-Wan,_ the disasterously handsome and charming Jedi Knight, getting married. But the meeting seemed as though it would be a reprieve, because it would be all business, no talk of betrothals or marriage.

Upon entering the council chamber, Elara took her spot at the foot of the table, seating herself beside Obi-Wan. He quirked a brow at her, eyes lingering on what pinkness still remained in her cheeks. She smoothed her hands over the tops of her thighs, fingers gliding along the fabric of her trousers.

"The Senator passes on his congratulations regarding our betrothal," Elara explained quietly, voice hitting a slight deadpan.

"How very thoughtful of him," Obi-Wan chuckled, a faint smirk clawing at the corner of his mouth. That damned smirk––she had known it would be trouble one day, and it seemed that trouble was the fact that she found it far too endearing. That, and it made her eyes linger on his lips just a few seconds too long. Elara rolled her eyes at him a little and directed her attention to Senator Noth, who was seated comfortably at the head of the table.

The meeting started off as it normally did. Proc called the meeting to order and light arguing struck up almost immediately. It was just the way that it always began; the senator would interject, ask them to calm themselves, and the situation would only elevate. It seemed that the meeting would be another hours-long arguing session, which would end without result. This possibility was cut short when Proc rose to his feet with an elegant smoothness, his presence suddenly commanding the attention that sent the room into silence. He stood like a senator should, expression cool and decided, exercising his right to bring the meeting to a direct halt.

"Over this past week I have listened to your arguments with equal interest and opportunity. I have labored over each possible decision, each possible outcome. And I must thank you all for the time you have given, and for the devotion you have showed to our beautiful planet. I also must thank our guests from the Jedi Order for the time that they have taken to oversee our talks and give their great insight. In light of all this… arguing and debate, I have come to a decision," Proc paused here and clasped his hands over his stomach. The room filled with a heavy tension, which weighed down on the shoulders of everyone in the room. Elara's hand shot out to rest atop Obi-Wan's knee, apprehension flooding through her system. She felt him tense a little at the sudden point of contact, but his hand slipped atop hers reassuringly after a beat. "I have decided that Gleann will remain with the Galactic Republic and work on exercising our voice in a constructive manner. If exercised correctly, we can make a great change."

A smooth, relieved exhale slipped from Elara's mouth, though she did not let that bleed into her expression. Simultaneously, her fingers tightened around Obi-Wan's knee and he squeezed her hand. They had succeeded in their mission. But it was clear that the day was far from over as the room erupted into noise, shouts of relief and anger cutting into the air with a near violence. But despite the uproar, Proc stood at the head of the table with a calm, decided expression, eyes scanning the faces of his council members. With his mind made up, he appeared to be the picture of the Senator that they had been promised he was. No longer was he weighed down by doubt or worry, no longer was he being pulled and pushed in every direction. He had made up his mind and nothing would move him from that steadfast position. As council members started to rise from their seats, gesticulating wildly, Proc raised a hand in a halting motion. The room eventually dissolved into silence when Proc made it clear he was waiting for just that. Once he had achieved the desired quiet, he ticked his head to the side and fixed his eyes on the only council member that had not risen from his seat.

"Councilman Keer, you have been vocal throughout this entire process; yet now you remain silent," Proc pointed out.

Councilman Keer, one of the younger members of the Senator's Esteemed Council of Gleann, sat slumped back in his chair, expression stiff, lips pursed. He had, indeed, been one of the most vehement voices that campaigned for Gleann to secede from the Republic. But as Proc had pointed out, he had been deathly silent since the announcement had been made. After another quiet moment, Keer sat forward and braced his elbows on the arms of his chair. He fixed the senator with a cool look, face decidedly impassive and unfeeling.

"I believe that you are making a mistake, Senator Noth. You are doing this planet a disservice by remaining with the Republic, which will only see our culture and everything we hold dear torn asunder. We will be dragged into war. We will be assuring the death sentence of our culture; the Republic cannot be changed," Keer voiced, a steady intonation keeping his words flat. But in that flatness there was an anger. A deep-seated anger that was being repressed with great force. But he then lifted a hand and swept it through the air, a brow twitching upwards. "That is all."

Proc inclined his head to the council member. "Thank you, Councilman Keer, for voicing your fears. I believe that these fears can be assuaged through further–– _diplomatic_ ––discussion. If everyone would please take a seat, I believe we can continue."

OOOO

The day was greyer than usual and rain had been drizzling for most of the afternoon. The dirt between the stones on the cobble-paved roads had turned to mud, the air smelled fresh and dewy, and a faint mist had gathered in the forests outside of the valley in which Lárnach was settled. Elara thought that the day was perfect, that it was beautiful, and had decided to explore the city's marketplace. It had been four days since the Proc had decided that Gleann would remain part of the Galactic Republic; but the outrage the decision had sparked within the council saw that Obi-Wan and Elara stayed for a little longer to assuage fears and keep everything diplomatic. It was hard work and tempers had to be constantly kept in check, but things had started to calm down. Obi-Wan estimated that they would be able to leave in the next few days, once Proc felt wholly comfortable he had a grasp on the situation.

So with the daily council meeting called off for a day of rest, Elara had braved the rainy weather and started to explore. The marketplace was a web of streets around the city center, and boasted many shop fronts and vendor stands, all elaborate and impressive. Her hair was damp with rain and droplets of it rolled along her cheeks and neck. Rain, like snow, was impossibly amazing to her; after living on a planet where they had to harvest water, to have it falling from the sky on a near regular basis was almost miracle-like. Such was why she had been walking around with the hood of her robe down, simply enjoying the feel of the droplets spattering against her skin, soaking through the layers of her clothes, and sticking down her hair.

"You have a hood for a reason," teased Obi-Wan. Elara looked over her shoulder to find him smirking at her as he approached, his own hood drawn up over his head. She shrugged and smiled, rain blurring her vision for a brief second.

"I know, but the rain is so… lovely," she replied. Elara tipped her head back, eyes scrunched shut as the cool drops of water languidly rolled across the planes of her face. She heard Obi-Wan chuckle behind her, and then felt a slight tug on the hood of her robe.

"Lovely as it may be…" Elara lifted her head just as Obi-Wan raised her hood, "you could catch your death if you leave yourself improperly exposed to it for too long." He draped the hood over her head experly, the already damp fabric now protecting her from the drizzle.

Elara chuckled as the two continued to walk along the row of vendors and those brave enough to attend the market in the inclimate weather. "What a way for a Tatooine girl to die––caught her death in the rain. I would be a legend."

Her companion hummed as they walked, a teasing yet disapproving hum rumbling in his throat. "I'd prefer if you reached legendary status through your actions, not your death."

"The sentiment is shared."

"Let us keep living, then." Obi-Wan smiled at her, eyes crinkling kindly at the corners; she had come to realize that that smile was a special one. One so genuine and happy and pure. Sometimes it showed his teeth, sometimes it was content not to. But any time it was directed at her, Elara felt her heart flutter a little. He had smiled at her like that, once, after they had just woken up––in each other's arms for the third time in a row––and she'd had to turn away to hide the blush that had painted itself madly across her cheeks.

A smile spread over Elara's lips in response to his happy look. She adjusted how her hood sat, slightly chilled fingers pulling at the rain-soaked fabric. They chatted personably as they walked, stopping at stalls and stands to admire the local wares. Just as Elara was curiously thumbing through a pile of elaborately woven shawls, something very out of place caught her ear.

" _U wamma wonka? (You gonna pay for that?)_ "

" _Ne tastta slemo poy! Uba wanna wonka, koochoo. (It tastes like drool! You pay for it, idiot)._ "

Two voices––one male, one female––had spoken Huttese on the other side of the street. The very guttural, throaty, spittal-laced language was so completely out of place against the lilting, musical Gleannish language that hovered in background noise. It was rare to hear anyone speak Huttese outside of the outer-rim. And to hear it _there_ , just behind her, through Elara completely off-guard. She'd gone completely still, hand hovering over a pile of folded fabric.

"Elara?" Obi-Wan asked, light concern lacing his tone. It was then that she realized her eyes had gone wide. "Is everything alright?"

Instead of answering, Elara slowly turned her head and shifted her hood aside, stealing a glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, two people stood on the opposite side of the street looking just as out of place as the language they had been speaking. They appeared to be grimacing over a local drink, the consistency of which did, indeed, look a little drool-like. Their clothes were made up of rough-spun fabrics native to desert planets, light enough to keep cool but thick enough to endure the elements. Heavy belts sat slung across their hips, the pouches attached were made of leather and had clearly seen better days. They wore sporadically placed armor, which had clearly seen combat and had been abused for years. One man wore heavy-duty bracers and thick gloves while the other had sleeves pushed up to his elbows and gloves cut off at the knuckles. Most notable––and most concerning––was that both toted blasters and blaster rifles, one of which was fitted to be shifted into a sniper configuration. Elara's head snapped forward and she slowly started to resume perusing the shawls.

"There are two people behind us," Elara started, voice quiet, eyes downcast. "They're speaking Huttese. There are select few people that speak Huttese outside the Outer Rim."

Obi-Wan quietly cleared his throat and carefully turned his head to appear that he was glancing down the street; though his eyes danced towards the pair that she had mentioned. "And what sort of people, aside from yourself, speak Huttese in the Inner Rims?"

"There's only one sort of person that dresses like that and speaks Huttese outside the Outer Rim. Bounty hunters. You'll hear bounty hunters hired out by the Hutts speak it when they're out on the job, particularly in places where people don't speak it. It gives them a way to discuss options and plan things openly without worrying someone might overhear."

Elara was quick to pop open a pouch and stick her fingers inside to root out some credits. She selected a greyish-purple, heavily brocaded length of fabric and raised it, locking eyes with the vendor. Once the price was given, and it was paid, Elara sloughed off her robe and thrust it at Obi-Wan without so much of a word. The man, though mildly startled at the sudden, silent insistence he take the robe, wadded the fabric up in his arms and watched her curiously. Elara draped her newly acquired shawl over her head and wrapped the rest of its considerable length around her shoulders and torso. It disguised the majority of her tunic, which was a dead give-away of her chosen profession. Before she could start out to cross the muddy street, Obi-Wan caught her by the elbow. He arched a brow at her, his expression almost chiding; Elara suspected this was a look Anakin received often. His voice was low when next he spoke.

"What are you doing?"

He had leaned in close, head bent, which shielded her a little from the rain. She raised both brows in an almost prompting manner. "Two trained killers showing up on a typically peaceable planet isn't normal; bounty hunters don't exactly take leisure trips. They travel so they can work, which means they are either here to take someone in for reward or _kill them_ for reward. I want to find out why they're here, we could save a life if they are here to do a job."

"I agree with you, I would just like to be privy to your plan because you clearly have one. You pride yourself on having more impulse control than your brother––exercise that," Obi-Wan prompted. His breath clouded in a puff of condensation, the coolness of the air combating with the warmth of the air leaving his mouth. Elara bobbed her head in an almost apologetic nod; if she had just run off, plan kept to herself, then both Jedi Knight and padawan would have been at a grievous disadvantage.

"I can follow them and listen to what they are planning to do; if they divulge any pertinent information, we can be ten steps ahead of them."

Obi-Wan nodded, eyes jumping back to the two bounty hunters, who were walking away from the vendor after slapping down a couple of credits for their drink. "I will follow you at a respectable distance, in case something should happen. If you don't have to engage with them, don't engage. I trust that you are aware of how cautious you have to be around their sort. Keep your comm link on hand and I shall do the same."

With that, Elara crossed the street, clutched the shawl closed over her chest, and started to tail the two bounty hunters. In following them, she would stop at vendors and peruse their wares briefly, letting the distance grow before she started to close in again. She kept one ear in their direction, focused wholly on trying to pick up words over the sound of the rain and market chatter. Despite the background noise, Elara did catch ear of the words 'lorda,' which meant 'boss' and 'ootmian,' which meant 'outlander.' Both of her brows furrowed as she pieced the information together. She lifted the comm link to her lips and lagged behind a little to ensure they wouldn't hear her.

"They've been hired by an outlander," she told him.

" _An outlander?_ " Obi-Wan's curious voice inquired.

"Someone who isn't from the Outer Rim, or Tatooine. You were an Outlander to Anakin and I when we first met."

" _Is it unusual for an… outlander to hire out Outer Rim bounty hunters?_ "

Elara thought the question over, considering the unsavory conversations that she had heard whilst working for Gardulla. She had heard contracts of all kinds be negotiated, and she winced to think of how many people's fates she had heard sealed. She had seen bounty contracts be fulfilled, pleading patrons being dragged out by grim faced––and sometimes smiling––bounty hunters. She had seen those that had wronged Gardulla be wrenched into the back rooms, knowing that they would not be limping back out. All these incidents had happened in dark corners, muttered in the spittle laced words of Huttese. Elara had always known better than to ask questions, or to look like she was listening in, but there were some things that she couldn't ignore, and there were some things that ran her imagination in loops.

"It's… rare. There are bounty hunters in every Rim of this galaxy, but I suppose Outer Rim hunters are renowned for being… particularly ruthless. If they were hired out by someone _here_ , then they must really want the job done," Elara muttered into the comm link. Her eyes followed the two hunters as they ducked into a cantina. "They've just gone inside the cantina, probably to get out of the rain. I'm going to follow."

" _I'll be behind you; be cautious._ "

The cantina was much nicer than those that Elara had spent extensive amounts of time in. It was fairly large and clearly catered to the locals. It smelled as cantinas usually did, of stale liquor, but there was something distinctly cool and mossy in that smell, too. The assembled patrons that were scattered across the establishment were distinctly less seedy than what she was used to, too. Elara hung back by the door for a moment, scraping the mud off bottoms of her boots on an iron shoe scraper just outside the door. Once the bounty hunters had retrieved drinks and found a table, she entered and retrieved her own drink. With the shawl still swathed around her, Elara seated herself at a nearby table, hunched over her drink and kept an open ear.  
" _Jee-jee jujiminmee hoohah, tagwa, Gaeriel? (We're kidnapping them, right, Gaeriel?)_ " asked the man. Elara chanced a glance towards them while she lifted her head to take a drink from her cup. The man looked grin and weather-worn, with brows pulled low over his eyes ane a scar pulling one lower than the other. His hair was patchy and short, and some spots were completely hairless and covered in ribboned scars.

The woman––Gaeriel, Elara presumed––who sat opposite him looked to be no-nonsense in nature, though her features looked as though they could be gentle if she wanted them to be. She fixed her partner with a look and heavily slouched back in their booth. " _Nobata, uba stupa. Ootmian coo wamman uus oto_ _ **killee**_ _hoohah. Sendee wankee. (No, you fool. The Outlander who paid us wants us to_ _ **kill**_ _them. Send a message),_ " she responded, tone slow and deliberate like she was explaining things to a child.

A chill ran through Elara's body upon hearing the intent of their presence on Gleann. With the cup still held to her lips, she did a quick head-to-toe scan of the two now that they were out of the rain and grey light. She looked for tell-tale signs and found them quickly––the wrappings on their shins, the scarves around their necks, the flush of sunburnt flesh across their faces. They were tell-tale signs of time spent on a sandy, dusty planet with two suns. There was a twang to their voices that suggested a life on Tatooine. Then the most damning piece of evidence peeked out from under the sleeve of the man's shirt. Just below his elbow was a tattoo––a tattoo of the symbol of the Hutt Cartel. It was so blatant that Elara had to wonder if the man was, indeed, a fool.

The comm link was discreetly removed from its pouch and Elara brought it up to her lips as she pretended to cover up a yawn. "This could be worse than I initially thought," she quietly uttered.

" _And why would that be?_ "

"They come from Tatooine, they work for the Hutts; and they aren't here to collect a bounty. They have been paid to kill someone. No bounty, just murder."

" _Correct me if I'm wrong, but I do not believe that murder is necessarily in their job description_ ," Obi-Wan's voice crackled.

Elara hummed grimly, lips pulling into a sharp frown. "If paid enough coin, Hutt bounty hunters will become assassins, no matter who's paying. Albeit, those that actually _accept_ those contracts are usually idiots; the Hutts typically don't take well to being double-crossed in any kind of way."

There was a crackling, displeased grunt from Obi-Wan's end of the connection. " _Have they named who their target is?_ "

"No." Elara chanced another look towards their table and saw that the two had leaned in closer, speaking in much more hushed tones. "And despite the perceived language barrier, they have decided to be secretive. I have to get closer…"

" _Elara…_ " It was a warning and an expression of worry.

"I worked in a cantina for years, I know how to go unrecognized."

With that, Elara tucked the comm link away, left her half drunk cup on the table and started to weave her way towards the bar. She dropped the shawl from her head and let it slouch around her neck. It remained tightly wrapped around her torso to hide her clothes as best as they could be hidden. Elara also reached up and wrapped the thin length of her padawan braid around the base of the small tail that was almost hidden amongst the rest of her hair. Upon passing by the bar, she swept up a tray meant for delivering and collecting drinks, and kept moving. With a ducked head and down-cast eyes, Elara slowed her pace and started to collect empty glasses. She was ignored, just as she had been back at Gardulla's, and that was just what she wanted. The closer she got to the bounty hunters' table, the more time she took in reprising her role as waitstaff. She caught snippets of their conversation here and there and was able to piece some things together.

Whoever they were sent to kill was hard to get so––they were discussing the difficulty of getting close enough to fulfill their job. Whoever had hired them was a native to the planet, but they'd never met them. Elara had been collecting a handful of glasses from a table directly adjacent to their table when their target was revealed to her.

" _Da noa nee choo senatee. (The senator will die),_ " assured the man, who had been called Wyle.

Startled by the information, Elara jerked a little and knocked a glass over. It fell to the floor where it shattered and spilled. The noise seemed to go mostly unnoticed. Those that _did_ seem to take particular, sharp notice were Gaeriel and Wyle, who were eyeing her critically. Elara realized her mistake in not immediately apologizing and fix her mistake. The reflex to do so had finally left her automatic responses after years of working hard to ignore it. She decided it would be best to just try and carry on. She started to collect the rest of the glasses, heart hammering violently inside her chest.

" _Chuba! (Hey, you!)_ " Wyle barked. Instinctively, Elara's head ticked towards them at the harsh call. She had heard it too many times from across cantinas, from the front of Watto's shop, and at the podracing track to ignore it.

" _Tagwa? (Yes?)_ " The word had tumbled past her lips before she could stop it. She flinched and grimaced. Jumping at the call could have been shrugged off as a member of waitstaff recognizing that they were being called upon. Responding in Huttese, however, was unignorable. Instead of shying away, as Elara might have done a few years prior, she straightened up, façade dropped, and turned to the table.

Both Gaeriel and Wyle were staring at her. Gaeriel had her eyes narrowed and Wyle's eyes were wide and stricken. The air around them grew disastrously still and tense. That stillness was broken by the seemingly casual shift of Gaeriel's hand; it dropped from the table to her thigh––where it slowly unholstered a blaster. That blaster was kept low, as not to cause a scene, but aimed up at Elara, who could see it perfectly well.

" _Ah'chu apenkee? Uba coo toup linguo Hutt dey? (Who are you? You who speaks the language of the Hutts?)_ "

" _Dolpee kikyuna. (I am a friend),_ " Elara stated blandly, letting little emotion to infiltrate her voice. Gaeriel scoffed at this, an almost amused smirk pulling across her face. Her head cocked to the side, and her whole demeanor became dangerously casual. Wyle scanned Elara from head-to-toe, eyes stopping suddenly at waist level.

" _Jeedai. Gaeriel, dee peedunka Jeedai. (Jedi. Gaeriel, the girl is a Jedi),_ " Wyle hissed. He jerked his chin forward, eyes focused on something on Elara's hip. She swore upon realizing the brocaded fabric had not been able to hide the hilt of her lightsaber well enough.

" _So… ah Jeedai pooee Tatooine… (So… a Jedi from Tatooine…)_ " Gaeriel drawled. If she had been feigning amusement before, a genuine form of the emotion had crossed her just face. A laugh started to bubble out of her mouth. " _Amusee. (Funny)._ "

Elara took a slow breath to steel herself, inhaling the sticky smell of the air. Her eyes slowly slid to the other side of the room, where she quickly took notice of Obi-Wan, who was seated at a corner table. His hood was still up but she could tell, even through the shadow, that his expression had become tense. Her eyes jumped back to the two at the table, who were scrutinizing everything about her––from the way that she breathed, the twitch of her fingers, she slip of her eyes.

"Why don't you sit?" insisted Wyle, slipping into Standard effortlessly.

"I would prefer to stand, thank you," Elara replied easily.

Gaeriel sat forward and switched off the safety of her blaster. She cocked a brow. "It would be rude to refuse, don't you think? Sit, Jedi, or we will add a few more names to our contract."

Elara cleared her throat and reached up to remove the rain dampened shawl. She straightened out her tunic and tabard, set the shawl aside, and seated herself next to Wyle. With a carefully kept composure, she met Gaeriel's eyes and arched an eyebrow.

"I have a hunch that whatever Hutt you're working for will not appreciate that you have accepted a contract so far outside of the Outer Rim," she theorized. The woman sat across from her smirked and shifted, likely re-angling the blaster under the table.

"He doesn't have to find out."

Elara hummed. "They always find out, one way or another."

There was a sharp jab as a second blaster was prodded violently into her side. Elara jumped a little and instinctively brought a hand to her hip, palm placed over her lightsaber. "You threatening us?" Wyle ground out.

"I am simply warning you both that the Hutts will find out you have taken a contract without their permission, and that they will see you suitably punished. All three of us know that their punishments are never kind."

Wyle cocked his head to the side curiously, eyes searching her face with a critical gaze. "And how would you know? You're too… well-kept looking to work for the Hutts." There was a pause before Wyle started to laugh, a frustratingly hearty sound. "Ohh… _ah shag! Uba ah shag! (a slave! You were a slave!)_ Slave turned Jedi, imagine that!"

"She's not even a full-fledged Jedi yet, Wyle, look at that braid. All the Jedi-in-training have them." Gaeriel jerked her chin at Elara, eyes trained on the braid that had slumped back to her shoulder. Elara's fingers started to curl around the hilt of her lightsaber. "Ah, ah! _Hagwa boska punyoo (don't go for that weapon)_ ––put it on the table." Slowly, Elara slipped the hilt off her belt, raised it, and placed it in the middle of the table. "Good."

" _Doe jee-jee killee dee peedunka? (Do we kill the girl?)_ " Wyle inquired, sitting forward in his seat, blaster still firmly poked into her side. Years ago, the inquiry would have chilled her straight to the bone; but, now, she was determined and the threat did not scare her. Not only did Elara know she had a number of outs, and that she could probably take down both bounty hunters with a fair amount of ease, but she knew she had back-up. Though, from a quick glance towards his table, she realized that Obi-Wan had disappeared from her field of view.

" _Tagwa. Peedunkaee nowa mucha mucha. (Yes. She knows too much),_ " Gaeriel confirmed, her eyes never leaving Elara.

"Whoever hired you must _really_ want Senator Noth dead; why else would they hire two _koochoos (idiots)_ from the Outer Rim?"

" _ **Koochoos?**_ _(Idiots?)_ " Wyle stressed, offence heavy in his tone.

"Yes, _koochoos_. Because if you were both intelligent, you would have realized that, yes, I am in training to become a Jedi––and that means that I have someone overseeing what I do," Elara pointed out calmly. Gaeriel's expression slowly deflated as her eyes started to dart about the room. A huffed breath puffed from her nose and she sat forward in preparation.

" _Kark. (Shit)._ There's another one…" she muttered. Her chin jutted forward at Elara, who sat there as though they were having a casual afternoon chat. "Shoot her."

"What?" Wyle seemed mildly startled by the sudden command. Gaeriel glared at him before she continued to scan the room. Tension started to build.

"Shoot her, idiot! It will give us enough time to run, the other Jedi will be too occupied with trying to save her."

Instinct prompted by foresight sent Elara's hands to Wyle's wrist, grabbing it and forcing it upwards just as he pulled the trigger. The bolt of blaster fire hit the ceiling and sent cries of shock through the cantina. Elara then threw her knee up into the table and knocked it over and into Gaeriel. Drinks spilled, glasses shattered, and curses were uttered. Her lightsaber tumbled to the floor. The padawan then slammed Wyle's own blaster and hand down into his face, the hilt of the weapon cracking into his nose. As he cried out, she let go and launched herself out of the booth. Elara then made the mistake of grabbing for her lightsaber, which allowed a very frustrated Gaeriel to tackle her.

With a grunt, the two women hit the floor and rolled. They knocked into a table, which tipped over with a clatter. Elara felt Gaeriel pin both of her hands to her lower back with an armor cald knee. She sank all weight onto Elara's wrists and the muzzle of the blaster was pressed firmly to her temple.

" _Kee baatu baatu. (You bother me),_ " Gaeriel hissed out.

There was a flash of brown and white, the whooshing hum of a lightsaber activating, and Obi-Wan slid into view.

"Hello there," Obi-Wan drawled. Elara groaned into the stick cantina floor and shifted uncomfortably; the movement prompted Gaeriel to shove the blaster harder against her head.

" _Coona tee-tocky malia… (What took you so long…)_ " Elara mumbled breathlessly, instinctively speaking in Huttese thanks to the re-exposure.

"Advance and she dies," Gaeriel threatened. Her knee jostled as she shifted her weight, which caused to Elara to groan as her ribs were crushed against the floor.

The room had gone silent save for Wyle's muffled cries of pain. Elara's gaze had locked on Obi-Wan, who stood at the ready, eyes dancing between the bounty hunter and the pinned padawan. He was trying to calculate how to placate the situation. How they could get out of it without injury or casualty.

"You don't have to do this," Obi-Wan informed evenly.

"Oh, I think I might have to. Now, why don't you save your comrade's life and deactivate that light sword of yours. It would be a shame for me to put a hole in her pretty little head, wouldn't it? You keep staring at her, so I presume you'd want her face to stay the same."

There was a pause after Gaeriel's words, a pause in which Elara watched Obi-Wan tighten his hold on the lightsaber. She met his eyes and his steeled a little more with determination. Above Elara, Gaeriel huffed in annoyance and shifted the blaster so it sat level with the top of her ear, the muzzle pointed at the bar. There was a surge of searing heat that cut across the tender flesh of Elara's ear as the blaster bolt just barely burned past the top of it. Elara sank her teeth as not to cry out in pain, but her eyes screwed shut and her legs instinctively twisted. The air smelled of burnt flesh and singed hair, and she could feel blood trickling into her ear. The blaster returned to its position at her temple; it was a heavy threat now that Gaeriel had made it perfectly clear she held no qualms with injuring or killing the Jedi trainee under her knee.

" _Now_ would be good," Gaeriel stated with an emphasised smugness. Sound had gone a little muted for Elara, blood pooling into her ear uncomfortably. But through that muffled liquid barrier, she could still make out the sound of a deactivating lightsaber; and upon opening her eyes, Elara watched Obi-Wan holster the hilt. He then raised his hands to signal that he would comply. The weight on her hands disappeared, only for them to be tightly pinched in Gaeriel's grasp. She was hauled to her feet and the muzzle of the blaster found a new home under her jaw. "No funny business, Jedi, or she dies. _Wyle––_ we're getting out of here."

" _Jee-jee taka dee peedunka!? (We're taking the girl!?)_ " Wyle exclaimed, voice muffled behind the bloodied hand that cupped his fractured nose. Elara felt Gaeriel shake her head as she was slowly prompted to walk backwards.

" _Nobata––peedunkaee dee shooree na. Bolla balla da speedee. (No––she is our insurance. Go get the speeder),_ " Gaeriel muttered. There was shuffling as Wyle darted off to do as he was told.

Elara knew that she was correct––Obi-Wan would not act unless he knew that the outcome would be advantageous. And it wouldn't be so long as Elara was being used as a blast shield. There was nothing that could be done without harming the eldest Skywalker; and there was nothing that she could say to convince him otherwise. Jedi were loyal––sometimes to a fault. Gaeriel used that knowledge to her advantage, because so long as she had Elara in front of her, they couldn't be stopped. The heels of Elara's boots hit the bottom stair that led up to the door. She locked eyes with Obi-Wan, their gazes unwavering as she was pulled up the stairs. He was breathing fairly heavily, jaw tense and nostrils flared. And there was something in his eyes that Elara was almost surprised to see––anger. A small flame of anger flickered in his eyes and the hands that he held aloft by his shoulders were slowly curling into fists.

"Must be nice to have such a loyal partner," Gaeriel hissed into her ear. She had spoken into Elara's bloody ear, which meant the words had sounded garbled and watery. "He must care more about you than your mission, which is saying something for the Jedi. Loyal they may be… but the job always wins out in the end."

"I'm guessing that you would sell out Wyle for a handful of credits," Elara shot back. Her shoulders were starting to ache from the strange way they were being pulled back. She shifted them a little and earned a harsh tug on her wrists. The woman with the blaster chuckled, the sound amused yet dark.

"Just as he would sell me out."

Elara caught ear of the sound of splattering rain, the whirring of a speeder engine, and she felt the cool air touch the back of her neck. The next thing that Skywalker felt was a swift push and a drastic change in gravity. The stairs tipped towards her face, and with a quick twist, Elara's shoulder met the stone steps, and she went tumbling down them. There was an initial shock of pain, but as she rolled there was little else of it. When she rolled to a stop on the sticky cantina floor, a groan pushed past her lips, and she pushed herself onto her hands and knees. Two hands fitted themselves under her arms and hauled her upright. Obi-Wan's lips were poised to ask a question, but Elara was quick to shrug him off and speak first.

"We have to move, they're going to assassinate the senator," she informed. She wobbled her way over to the first overturned table and grabbed her lightsaber, hooking the hilt back onto her belt. She fit a pinky into her ear and scrubbed away what blood she could. The world started to sound a little normal again.

"Are you alright?" Obi-Wan stressed, gently catching her by the elbow. Elara looked up at him and was stopped by concern that had flooded his eyes. It was in the crystalline blue of his eyes that she became momentarily lost––the top of her ear didn't sting, her body didn't throb, and the bruises that had already started to form weren't so angry. After a beat, she broke herself out of it and nodded. Obi-Wan released her elbow and bobbed his head in a single nod."How do you propose we catch up with them?"

"Well," Elara sighed out as they jogged up the stairs, "I _was_ a podracer––I'm sure someone will let us borrow their speeder."

 _ **Afterword:**_ _**I… did not intend this to be a three chapter long mission, but it looks like that's what it's gonna be. I got carried away. And to spare you all from having to read another, like, fifteen pages, I'll conclude this mission in the next chapter. Also, as a note, most of the Huttese is referenced from Ben Burtt's 'Galactic Phrase Book and Travel Guide,' along with some stuff that I made up because there was only so much of it in the book.**_

 _ **Review Replies!**_

 **Arkytior's Song:** _The 'betrothal' has certainly added a little something to their relationship; and it's so much fun to write. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter just as much as the last one! Thanks again!_

 **Robinbird79:** _I really wanted to get some good Obi-Wan/Elara moments in before the Attack of the Clones comes into play. It's all leading up to a something good. The next chapter will have some real good fake betrothal fluff, as this one is heavy on the mission stuff. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!_

 **1MoreInMe1:** _Obi-Wan is probably having more difficulty in this situation than Elara is, and it's fun to write the struggle. I hope that you enjoyed the new chapter; and thank you again for taking the time to read!_

 **DallysTUFF:** _I was thinking over a ship name for them and I settled on a nice Obilara/Obi-Lara. Every other option was kinda weird. I'm very glad that you enjoyed the last chapter and am very flattered you are a fan of my writing style. I hope that you stick around to read more Obi-Lara goodness, as there is so much more to come. Thanks again!_

 **themagentacolor:** _I agree about there not nearly being enough stories about Obi-Wan out there; I'm constantly on the search for a good story about him, be it fanfiction or published fiction. I'm very happy you enjoyed the last chapter! I had a lot of fun figuring out how Elara fares in politics––and how she and Obi-Wan tag team diplomacy missions (and in this chapter, stealth mission stuff). I also adore writing the Obi-Wan/Elara moments just as much as you seem to enjoy reading them! I work so hard on finding the right moment for them to actually HAVE A MOMENT, because their lives are so crazy and Obi-Wan's got a lifetime of being taught that long-lasting romantic relationships are a no-no. And the sparring tension… I'm glad it read ;) That was the sole purpose of that scene, was just for the tension. And YES, yes he DID do the Thing where he was looking at her/referencing her when Elara was calling the mountain range beautiful. And I think that Elara and Obi-Wan being called 'goofs' fits them perfectly when their around each other. Because Obi-Wan around Anakin is very well-composed, while Obi-Wan around Elara is just insufferably flirty and, well, a little goofy. Also, I love long reviews, because it means I get to spend time replying to them in depth (as you can see). I am so glad that you are enjoying the story! I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! Thanks again!_

 **LoveFiction2018:** _Thank you! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_

 _ **And thank you to those who have added this story to follows/favorites; it means a lot!**_

 _ **Kinda thinking of making an 8tracks playlist of the songs that make me think of Obi-Wan and Elara––let me know if y'all would be interested in listening to it.**_

 _ **And one last fun fact––Gaeriel is actually a character that I played in a Star Wars RPG a couple years ago. I tweaked her home planet and her attitude for story purposes, but it was nice to dust her off for a while.**_

 _ **Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Thanks again!**_

 _ **~Mary**_


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